


Love Is Golden

by Dawn on ICE (Dawn_Blossom)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (remember those artistic liberties), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coach Katsuki Yuuri, Coach Victor Nikiforov, I'm just warning you that there are artistic liberties re figure skating, M/M, POV Multiple, Pair skate still happens even though Victuuri are both retired, Yuri never skates Agape but he finds it anyway, Yuuri still manages to skate to Eros, because this story is about figure skaters but it is not really about figure skating you understand, specifically everything up to the banquet happens but Yuuri actually retires after Nationals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 07:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 35,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn%20on%20ICE
Summary: Five years ago, Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov met at the Banquet of the Sochi Grand Prix Final. Yuuri forgot, and then he retired. Victor skated another season, and then he retired. They did not meet again.But now, Kenjirou Minami, coached by Yuuri, has made it to the Grand Prix Final for the first time. His primary goal is to beat Yuri Plisetsky, his old rival from their Junior days. Of course, if he could arrange for Yuuri to meet Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky's coach and Yuuri's longtime idol, then that would be awesome, too.Thus begins the story of how Kenjirou, Yuri, Yuuri, and Victor bring new meaning to each other's lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! You all remember how I posted all 13 chapters of "Winning Hearts" at once when I wrote it back in January? Well, I did not learn my lesson, because here I am six months later, posting 24 chapters of a story all at once.
> 
> In my defense, I've been working on this for a whole month. I spent a good 4 weeks writing every day, but then I started summer classes, so my writing time was reduced quite a bit... But anyway, this is my longest work to date (I'm constantly surprising myself; did you know that before YOI, my longest completed fic was 2700 words? I can't believe how much YOI has inspired me. What the actual heck?) and I'm pretty proud of it! It has its strengths as well as its flaws, but I'm just really happy to have finished it!
> 
> I hope you'll all enjoy it, too!

“Are you nervous, Kenjirou?” his coach asks as they wait in line. They’ve arrived early enough to the French hotel that the lobby isn’t swarmed with reporters, but there are still a few guests ahead of them.

And Kenjirou Minami, currently one of Japan’s best skaters at the age of 22, might be expected to be nervous. After all, it’s his first time qualifying for the Grand Prix Final, held this year in Marseille, France. 

But he’s worked hard to get here, and he just knows that this is going to be his season.

“I’m excited!” he exclaims cheerfully. “Don’t be so worried, Yuuri; I’ll win you a gold medal this year for sure!”

Yuuri Katsuki, widely known as “Japan’s Ace” before his retirement and the man Kenjirou was somehow lucky enough to convince to be his coach, offers him a small smile.

“I’m proud of you,” Yuuri says warmly. “You’ve worked hard to get here and… and it’s an honor just to make it, so just make sure you skate your best.” 

Yuuri laughs nervously, and Kenjirou is reminded that the one and only time Yuuri ever skated at the Grand Prix Final, he ended up placing sixth. (It had truly been a horrible moment for all of Yuuri’s fans, too. The look of utter despair on his face as his program fell apart around him was enough to break anyone’s heart.)

“I _will_ skate my best,” Kenjirou says, grabbing Yuuri’s hands with his own. “I want the world to see what I can do. What I can do because of _you,_ Yuuri! All my victories are yours, too.”

Yuuri smiles softly (the kind of smile that still makes Kenjirou’s heart do quadruple loops in his chest) and gives Kenjirou’s hands a gentle pat.

“It’s really all your own doing,” Yuuri insists. “But I’m happy I could be here to witness it.”

Before Kenjirou can protest this (frankly frustrating) statement, the people in front of them get finished with their business, and Yuuri steps forward to check them in.

Kenjirou pouts behind his coach’s back. Though he and Yuuri have grown close in the five years as student and coach, Yuuri is still reserved about being on the receiving end of Kenjirou’s affection. Though Yuuri never hesitates to praise Kenjirou, when Kenjirou tries to reciprocate, Yuuri always manages to either deny it or change the subject.

Of course, Kenjirou doesn’t have it in him to be too upset. It’s just how Yuuri works. And to be fair, Yuuri really is a lot more comfortable around him than he used to be. (When he first asked Yuuri to be his coach, the man had thought he was mocking him, for goodness sake!) Their relationship is certainly more personal than professional. Kenjirou would go so far as to call them close friends.

That a mere glance at Yuuri’s face can still make his heart race, that the sound of Yuuri’s laughter can take his breath away… Well, that’s just how it is. The fanboy crush he had once had on his idol had faded, only to be replaced with a much stronger for the Yuuri Katsuki that he had come to know as a person. But it was all too clear that Yuuri wasn’t going to look at him that way. In fact, Kenjirou has never seen him look at anyone that way…

Well, that isn’t exactly true. The look of longing Yuuri wears whenever Victor Nikiforov appears on screen tells Kenjirou everything he needs to know about where Yuuri’s heart lies.

And that’s why Kenjirou has a plan.

Victor Nikiforov, six-time gold medalist at the Grand Prix Final, had retired one year after Yuuri and immediately started coaching Yuri Plisetsky, his former rinkmate who had won silver in his senior debut with a short program that Victor himself had choreographed. Yurio (as he and Yuuri’s family had decided to call Plisetsky, since obviously Kenjirou couldn’t talk about “Yuri” without it getting confusing) had then gone on to win another silver, immediately followed by two gold medals.

Yurio has always been adamant about maintaining a winning streak longer than Victor’s. Kenjirou is adamant about breaking it. He had been Yurio’s rival back in the junior division, and now it was time for him to rekindle that rivalry. Yurio had gone too long without tough competition, anyway.

And that’s where Kenjirou’s plan comes in. It knocks out two birds with one stone! It’s completely reasonable for skaters to dine together before a competition, and seeing as both he and Yurio are close with their coaches, it only makes sense for Yuuri and Victor to come along as well. That way, Yuuri can finally talk to Victor like he’s always wanted to, and at the same time, Kenjirou can make his declaration of eternal rivalry to Yurio’s face. It’s the perfect plan!

Unfortunately, it’s a little harder to pull off than he was expecting, because when Yurio and Victor arrive at the hotel the next day, they are immediately pounced on by the press. Kenjirou loses track of them in the crowd, and they somehow manage to make an escape before he can even approach them. (“I’m relieved they don’t do that to us,” Yuuri had commented, chuckling nervously. His eyes had remained fixed on Victor’s back until he had disappeared, Kenjirou noticed.)

Kenjirou finally manages to catch up to Yurio the day of the short programs, a couple of hours before they have to skate, but it doesn’t exactly go like he’d pictured.

“Who are you?” Yurio asks, his brow furrowing slightly. 

“You don’t remember me?” Kenjirou asks with a frown. Had it really been so long since they’d competed against each other? “I’m Kenjirou Minami! We skated in Juniors together, remember?”

Yurio stares at him for a second before shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he says, the word coming out strangely, as though he’s just remembering how to use it. “I don’t recall many of the competitors from back then. I always had my eyes on the senior division.”

“Oh,” Kenjirou murmurs. “That makes sense, I guess.” 

A mild sense of disappointment surges through him. His hair is a little longer than it was back then, now reaching just past his neck (though it’s not nearly as long as Yurio’s—Yurio’s hair reaches his mid-back when let down, though it’s usually kept up in a ponytail, or occasionally a braid), but it still contains his signature red streak. Surely that’s something a person would remember!

Yurio shrugs. “Yeah, well, I guess you must be decent now if you made it to the final,” he says. “Good luck or whatever. It would be cool if you’d knock JJ down a notch, at least.”

Kenjirou laughs, but the glint in Yurio’s eyes tells him that the three-time gold medalist is actually serious.

“I’m going for the gold, you know,” Kenjirou says. Yurio may have forgotten him once, but no way is he going to let him do it again.

Yurio snorts.

“You and everyone else. What kind of idiot aims for less?” he says, smirking as Kenjirou blushes. “I’ll see you on the ice or something,” he continues, turning to leave.

For a moment, Kenjirou almost forgets about the reason he approached Yurio in the first place, but then his eyes widen.

“Wait!” he calls before Yurio can walk away. When the Russian skater looks back, Kenjirou continues. “Do you want to get dinner with me tonight? We can finally catch up after all these years!” he says excitedly.

Yurio blinks in surprise. “Seriously? You’re just…” He breaks off his sentence, shaking his head slightly. “You know what, fine. I’m free anyway,” he says nonchalantly.

“Great! There’s so much to talk about!” Kenjirou says enthusiastically. He really is excited to reconnect with his rival. They had never exactly become friends in their youth, but maybe they could now. It’s never too late to form new bonds.

Oh, right, and speaking of new bonds, he was supposed to be helping Yuuri.

“And maybe you can bring your coach, and—“ Kenjirou starts, but he stops abruptly when Yurio’s eyes turn frosty.

“You know if you want to speak to Victor you can do it yourself?” Yurio asks harshly. “You really don’t have to drag me into it.”

“Uh… What?” Kenjirou asks in confusion. 

“Do you think you’re the first one to think of using me to meet Victor?” Yurio continues incredulously. “He doesn’t bite, you know. You can just walk up to him and start talking. Leave me out of it.”

“But I don’t want to talk to Victor,” Kenjirou says, still somewhat confused. 

“You don’t want to talk to Victor Nikiforov, most decorated skater in men’s singles history, most celebrated figure skater of our era, etcetera?” Yurio asks sarcastically.

‘Well I mean he’s great and everything, but I was never that interested in him. I have a different skating idol,” Kenjirou says, smiling gently when he thinks of Yuuri. “I just want him to meet my coach. It’s fine if he can’t come, but…”

But then Yuuri wouldn’t get to meet his idol (who is also probably the love of his life), and Kenjirou really, really wants to give the two of them the meeting they hadn’t managed as competitors. Surely as coaches they could meet on equal terms.

“Pleeaaase, Yurio,” Kenjirou pleads. “It’ll be so much fun.”

“What did you just call me?” Yurio growls, but the ice in his eyes has melted into amusement, so Kenjirou doesn’t think he’s really angry anymore.

“Sorry, that’s your nickname. My coach is also named Yuuri , so it gets confusing,” Kenjirou explains cheerfully.

“That’s so stupid. You should have given your coach the nickname,” Yurio insists, though the corners of his mouth are twitching upward.

“Maybe you can come up with one for him when you meet him tonight,” Kenjirou suggests. “That is, if you still want to…?”

Yurio hesitates for a moment, but then nods his head with a sigh. “Fine. Only because I don’t have anything better to do. Victor doesn’t, either, so I guess I might as well invite him.”

“You’re the best!” Kenjirou exclaims, hurriedly handing over his phone. “Here, give me your number and I’ll text you later tonight.”

“Yeah, sure,” Yurio mutters, looking down while he puts his information into the phone. “See you later, Kenjirou,” he adds as he hands the phone back.

“Good luck on your short program,” Kenjirou says, waving his hand as Yurio turns to leave (and actually gets away this time).

Kenjirou grins to himself. It’s going to be a great night.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Yura, what’s so special about this guy? Kenjirou Minami, you said?” Victor asks nonchalantly as they take their seats in an unpopulated corner of the restaurant Yurio had suggested to Kenjirou. “You never go out with the other competitors unless Otabek’s going.”

“Shut up, Victor,” Yuri replies.

The real answer is “Kenjirou doesn’t care about you,” but Yuri can hardly admit that. It isn’t as though Victor is trying to steal everything from him, after all, but he’s Russia’s Living Legend (ugh, the title makes him want to throw up), and Yuri, for all the world seems to care, is just Victor 2.0 (or worse, “Victor’s student,” as if his identity is nothing more than an extension of Victor’s).

(“Am I being pathetic, Beka,” he had said when he had called his closest friend earlier. “I don’t know anything about this guy other than that he’d never idolized Victor.”

“It’s not pathetic. I’m glad you’re making more friends,” Beka had responded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there this year.”

“It’s fine,” Yuri had replied, even though it wasn’t.)

But if he were to express any of this to Victor, he would only receive pity, which is the last thing he _ever_ wants from Victor Fucking Nikiforov.

“You said you were in Juniors together,” Victor continues as if Yuri hadn’t said anything. “And didn’t you meet Otabek in some Novice event or something? I guess you must have been charming when you were a child,” he says with a laugh.

“You say that like you don’t think I’m charming anymore,” Yuri mutters.

“Hmm, I wonder…” Victor says teasingly, to which Yuri rolls his eyes.

His phone vibrates then, with Kenjirou indicating his arrival. Yuri messages him the location of their table, and for a second he thinks that everything is going well.

Then Kenjirou rounds the corner with his coach following behind him, and Yuri can’t keep his jaw from dropping.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he says, the name falling out of his mouth before he can think better of it. “It’s been a long time.”

The last time Yuri had seen the former skater, Yuuri had crashed and burned a free skate, cried in a bathroom, kicked Yuri’s ass in a dance-off (not that Yuri would ever admit that out loud), and seduced Victor Nikiforov, all in the span of a single day.

And then he had shattered Victor’s heart by seemingly dropping off the face of the planet, and then retired, just to rub salt into the wound.

_’What the fuck,’_ Yuri wants to say, along with _’You’ve got some fucking nerve showing your face again,_ and _’How dare you show up just when we’ve finally forgotten you.’_

Because though Yuuri Katsuki had dropped out of his and Victor’s lives like he had never even gone to the banquet, his influence wasn’t so easily removed. Victor had spent an entire season pining for him, skating three programs in Katsuki’s honor, three programs that Katsuki might not have even _seen_ because he was _retired,_ and had looked so _defeated_ by the end of it all (an expression so contrary to his nature that there was an actual conspiracy theory amongst his fans that he was dying—a theory which was only bolstered by his choice of music for his exhibition skate, “You Only Live Once,” a mostly-Japanese song that must have seemed like an odd choice for everyone who didn’t know what was going on in Victor’s brain).

Hell, the only reason Victor ever started coaching Yuri was because Yuuri Katsuki had put the coaching idea in his head in the first place!

(Yuri tries _not_ to think of 15-year old Yuri’s disappointment when he heard of Katsuki’s retirement, of how he had spent too many hours watching videos of Katsuki’s old routines, of how he had heard that Katsuki was coaching some random skater and had, for some stupid reason, felt betrayed. They were teenage flights of fancy, that’s all.)

And if Yuri were still 15, he would have kicked Katsuki in his stupid face already. But no, he has more restraint than that now. He can play it cool. He clenches his fists beneath the table and doesn’t say anything.

“You… You know who I am?” Katsuki says weakly, as if someone is strangling him.

“How could anyone ever forget what you showed us in Sochi?” Victor asks, his voice thick with several layers of false cheer.

“O-Oh,” Katsuki mumbles, and his face crumples so quickly that Yuri is afraid he’s about to start crying in front of them. (Yuri swears that if he does, he _will_ repeat the Sochi Bathroom Incident and yell at him again.)

But Katsuki does not cry.

“I… I’m sorry…” he says sadly. “That was… There was a death---my dog, I mean, but…”

“Your dog died?” Victor interrupts.

Oh. Oh, no. Victor’s own dog had died six months previously. Yuri hopes he’s imagining the tears brimming in his eyes.

“Yeah…” Yuuri says, sighing. “I know that’s no excuse, but… Please, if there’s any way we could move forward as if it didn’t happen…”

“You’re ashamed,” Victor murmurs, much more gently than he ought to, in Yuri’s opinion.

Katsuki flinches, but he nods.

“Who wouldn’t be? The way I…” he stops, evidently too cowardly to admit what he’s done.

Yuri narrows his eyes, but Victor—curse him and his soft, dog-loving heart—stands up, holding out his arm in reconciliation.

“You want a new beginning, then. Sure,” he says as Katsuki hesitantly takes his hand. “I’m Victor Nikiforov, Yuri Plisetsky’s coach.”

His mouth goes heart-shaped. Yuri wants to smack it off his face.

_’Have you already forgotten how he’s hurt you?’_ he wants to scream. _’One shitty apology and you’re forgiving him?’_

Victor should be furious. These positive emotions he’s having are so out of place in this situation that Yuri could almost scream.

(And yet, when was the last time Victor had felt anything very strongly? The man’s been drained for so long that maybe he’s just confused. Victor should be angry, but his body’s just so happy to be feeling anything that he’s mistaking it for love or something. Is that how emotions work? Yuri’s not a goddamn psychologist.)

Katsuki has the gall to look _adoring._

“I’m Yuuri Katsuki; I coach Kenjirou Minami,” he says, his eyes fixated on the place where his fingers grip Victor’s hand. “I-It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he continues, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

“Believe me, the pleasure’s all mine,” Victor says smoothly. “I do hope this won’t be the last time we meet,” he adds, his voice taking on a barely perceptible edge. His fingers linger over Katsuki’s hand a couple seconds longer than necessary before he withdraws them, gesturing to the table.

“Oh... Me too,” Katsuki says, smiling a disgustingly sweet smile as he takes his seat.

“See, Yurio, I knew it was a good idea to bring our coaches,” Kenjirou says happily as he sits down beside Katsuki, and Yuri can hardly believe his ears. “I didn’t know you’d already met Yuuri, though.”

_’You thought bringing the guy who ghosted us for five years would be a good idea?’_ Yuri almost says, but then realization slaps him in the face. Obviously Katsuki had never told him about the Sochi banquet (and why would he, when he wanted to forget about it so badly?). Kenjirou clearly had no idea of the significance of his actions.

Yuri could say something to him. Should, maybe. But Kenjirou’s eyes sparkle every time he says “Yuuri,” and fuck, Yuri can’t just say “your coach is an asshole,” can he? He squeezes his fists once more and then unclenches them.

“Whatever,” he says coolly. “I didn’t come here to talk about them. Let’s order our food already.”

Their dinner should be an awkward affair. Surprisingly, it really isn’t.

Certainly, a lot of that is due to Kenjirou. He can only be described as a “ball of sunshine,” and Yuri can only assume that he must have _hated_ Kenjirou when they were younger. Even now, Yuri finds him a bit exhausting, but… it’s nice, in a way. Otabek is quiet, calm, stoic… everything Yuri wants to be, and he couldn’t ask for a better best friend. Kenjirou is nothing like Otabek, but strangely, Yuri doesn’t mind. 

_’It would be alright to have a friend like this,’_ he finds himself thinking. It’s been a while since he’s felt like he could really connect with someone like this. Otabek was the first. Then Victor, though their relationship has always been rocky. Kenjirou is quickly growing on him, he knows.

And Katsuki… Katsuki is not terrible, and that’s the worst part. Katsuki is growing on him, too. At first, the Japanese coach only speaks when Kenjirou coaxes something out of him, and even then his words are hesitant, as if he isn’t sure he should be speaking at all. But by the time their food arrives, he’s more relaxed, able to converse freely even when Yuri or Victor are the ones talking to him.

And then Katsuki makes a quip about the competition, just an insignificant little joke, but it makes Yuri laugh, and he’s horrified to realize that he is enjoying Katsuki’s company. Worse, Victor laughs, too, his eyes lighting up in a way Yuri hasn’t seen before.

No, that isn’t true. Yuri _has_ seen it before, and Katsuki had caused it then, too.

Fuck.

So even though he’s having a great time, even though they’re _all_ having a great time, Yuri stands up as soon as their dishes are cleared.

“We have to go,” he says, ignoring the puzzled look Victor throws at him. “I need time to rest. Gold isn’t going to win itself,” he offers as an explanation.

“You’re right. We shouldn’t stay out too late,” Kenjirou says, backing him up, and Yuri has never been so grateful. “We both need to be at our best when I take the gold from you,” he continues, grinning at Yuri.

“Hah,” Yuri scoffs. “Have fun trying.” 

He can see Kenjirou scraping by with silver, if he does everything perfectly and some other competitor makes a mistake, but there’s no way he’s going to outperform Yuri. Not this competition, at least, although if he makes some adjustments to his programs before Worlds… Well, it _would_ be nice if Yuri, Beka, and Kenjirou could keep JJ off of the podium this year. He bites back a smile at the thought.

And then Victor opens his mouth and ruins Yuri’s mood again.

“I think our skaters want to leave us, Yuuri,” he says good-humoredly. “But I think they’ll be fine on their own. The two of us can go for drinks without them.”

Yuri shoots him his best death glare, but before he can say anything, Katsuki speaks.

“Oh, uh, I don’t really drink alcohol…” he says, looking downward.

“Oh, is that so?” Victor replies, the humor drained from his voice.

Yuri feels the desire to kick Katsuki rise up within him again. For god’s sake, if he had to lie, he should have at least picked a better one! 

But then Katsuki’s head snaps up, and his eyes widen.

“Something else!” he exclaims quickly. “I mean, we could do something else, if you want. Anything! Or, uh…”

Victor’s smile comes back in full force then.

“Coffee, then,” he suggests.

“Yeah, okay,” Katsuki replies, smiling softly.

Bitterness churns in Yuri’s stomach, and he scowls.

“Whatever. Let’s go, Kenjirou,” he says, grabbing his fellow competitor’s arm and dragging him along.

Victor and Katsuki can pay the damned bill themselves. Hell, Victor will probably insist on paying for the whole thing, like he’s some kind of gallant suitor or something. And then they’ll go have their stupid coffees and… ugh.

But it’s none of Yuri’s concern. All he needs to think about is skating. Victor, at 32 years of age, can make his own fucking decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, when Victor skated to "You Only Live Once," he used the ["Everlasting" arrangement](https://dawnonice.tumblr.com/post/162781271010/saniika-saniillama-maenunomegane), which is meant to express longing and sadness (compared to the original's happiness). Had he succeeded in contacting Yuuri, he would have used the original arrangement, but since he didn't, well... sadness and longing were his emotions. But it absolutely did not help the death rumors!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just... the plot of a Chainsmokers song???
> 
> ~~Four~~ Five years no calls, now you're lookin' pretty in a ~~hotel bar~~ restaurant

Yuuri can hardly believe he isn’t dreaming.

The evening had started out as a nightmare. The second that Yuuri’s name had passed Yuri Plisetsky’s lips and he realized that he (and _Victor_ ) remembered his disastrous performance at the Sochi Grand Prix Final, Yuuri thought that he would have to retire in shame… again.

But then Victor had offered him the chance to put the past behind him. It was far more than he deserved, but Victor had extended his hand anyway. It was like a weight he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying had suddenly lifted.

And if that had been all that had happened, Yuuri would still have called it the best day of his otherwise lackluster life. But somehow, it only continued to get better. Because now here he is, sitting next to Victor and sipping coffee, and the only reason he knows it isn’t a dream is because his own mind would never come up with something like this, would never create something that made him feel this happy.

Victor is everything Yuuri has ever wanted, here in the flesh and smiling right at him. 

“What are the odds we would both end up coaching?” Victor says, taking a sip of his drink, which he’s loaded with so much cream and sugar that it may as well be a warm milkshake at this point. 

“Ah… yeah…” Yuuri says awkwardly, not really sure how to respond to that. Truthfully, he had never planned to become a coach, but he’d already announced his retirement before he realized that he wasn’t actually ready to give up the sport, and then Kenjirou had appeared at his front door begging him to coach him, and… Well, it was an easy opportunity, it kept him close to the ice, and… and it was nice, really. Kenjirou could have done a lot better than him, and Yuuri suspects that he’ll one day realize that and move on, but until that happens, Yuuri has a job and a purpose and a student that seems to like him, so he’s content. Sure, he’ll never fully recover from the shame of his one and only appearance at the Grand Prix Final, and he has more regrets than there are stars in the sky, but really, it’s okay. He’s stopped crying about it, at least.

Of course he doesn’t mention any of that to Victor. That would be horribly embarrassing. Victor, who had retired with his medals, records, and dignity intact only to go on to coach Yurio (Kenjirou’s nickname for the “other Yuri” is forever stuck in his head, but luckily, Victor had just laughed when Yuuri had accidentally said it out loud) to victory as well, surely wouldn’t want to hear about Yuuri’s pathetic existential crisis from five years ago.

“Maybe it’s fate,” Victor continues, gazing warmly into Yuuri’s eyes.  
Okay, the thing is, Yuuri is pretty sure that Victor is flirting with him. A lot. The whole night. And _normally,_ Yuuri would tell himself to stop being so arrogant, but then Victor had shot him a look straight out of his iconic 2016-2017 “On Love: Eros” program the second Kenjirou and Yurio had left them alone, so even Yuuri can’t write this one off as wishful thinking.

“Maybe it is,” Yuuri agrees, trying his best to sound seductive. Unfortunately, in the next second, he’s blushing so hard at his own forwardness that he has to start practically chugging his own coffee just to give him an excuse to shut up.

He’s sure he must be the most unattractive creature Victor has ever seen.

“Wow, Yuuri,” Victor says, chuckling. “You got that down fast,” he continues, his eyes sparkling.

“Sorry!” Yuuri says quickly. “I was, uh, just thirsty.”

He cringes internally at his choice of words. Oh, he’s _thirsty,_ all right. 

“I see,” Victor chuckles again, his laughter smooth and warm. “Did you want something else?” he asks, totally innocently, but Yuuri can’t help but read innuendo into it anyway.

Oh no, he really _is_ thirsty.

“No, that’s alright,” Yuuri says weakly. 

Victor glances at his cup, and Yuuri rushes to continue.

“You don’t need to hurry for me or anything,” Yuuri says. “I like talking to you, Victor.”

_’Why would you even say that?’_ he screams at himself. _’You think he cares about talking? He probably wants to get out of here already!’_

But Victor is looking brighter than ever.

“I like talking to you, too, Yuuri,” he says, and it’s not fair how good Yuuri’s name sounds on his lips. “I wish we could have talked sooner. Five years ago—ah.” Victor breaks off his sentence suddenly. “Sorry, I know I said we could forget the past, I just—“

“It’s okay,” Yuuri says quickly. “I wish I could have talked to you then, too.”

_’I wish you would have wanted to talk to me,’_ he thinks sadly, and the expression must show on his face, because Victor is reaching over, resting his warm hand comfortingly on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” he says quietly. “I was serious about this being a new beginning for us. I won’t talk about Sochi any more.”

Yuuri could have cried, if he’d been alone. There was no reason for Victor to be so nice to him, no reason for Victor to show any interest in him at all, and yet, here he was, being the nicest person on the planet.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Yuuri says in agreement. “Not skating.”

Of course, eliminating their obvious common interest makes it a little hard to find a good topic. Yuuri has never been to an opera in his life (though he had once watched a poor-quality recording of one on Youtube. But that was only because Victor had skated to “Stay Close to Me” from it, and Victor didn’t need to know just how influential he was on Yuuri’s interests), and the closest thing he’s familiar with is _The King and the Skater,_ which Victor _hasn’t_ seen. Yuuri mentions video games, to which Victor excitedly admits that he’s _terrible_ at them now because he never had time to play them when he was younger.

Eventually they get on the subject of places they’ve traveled to, and finally they can both contribute equally to the conversation. Granted, Victor probably has _more_ stories, because he goes out and does things instead of holing up in his hotel room whenever he travels, but… Well, at least the story of the time he and Celestino had tried to drive to Skate America got Victor to laugh. Victor tells him about how he likes to visit the waterfront if the city he’s in has one, how seeing seagulls always reminds him of his home in Saint Petersburg.

“There are seagulls at the beach in Hasetsu, too,” Yuuri tells him. “Uh, that’s where I’m from,” he explains.

Victor leans forward, smiling.

“Oh, really? I’ve never been there. Maybe I should visit,” he says.

_’No, don’t. I couldn’t handle you being so close,’_ Yuuri thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought of Victor coming to his hometown doesn’t excite him just the tiniest bit.

“It’s small,” Yuuri says. “There’s not a lot to do. The tourists come for the hot springs, mostly. And the rink has gotten more popular since Kenjirou started training there.”

“Hot springs and an ice rink,” Victor murmurs. “Hot and cold. How perfect.”

Yuuri shrugs.

“Like I said, there’s not a lot to do,” he says. “But it’s a nice town. You should at least check out the hot springs if you’re ever in the area.”

Victor hums in agreement, his eyes gleaming for a moment before he looks down at the empty cup between his hands.

“W-We should… go?” Yuuri says, his voice rising into a question. He doesn’t know what’s supposed to happen now. His last one-night stand was a half-drunken mistake from his college days, and he certainly doesn’t want to repeat _that_ experience with Victor!

He’s distracted from his burgeoning panic by the feeling of Victor’s hands brushing his own—oh, he’s taking Yuuri’s long-empty cup. (Yuuri hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping it until it had left his hands.

By the time they get back to the hotel, Yuuri has managed to quell some of his nerves. Victor, for whatever reason, wants to have sex with him, and damn it, he’s going to go in there (“there” being Victor’s room, because Victor had been smart enough not to share a hotel room with Yurio… in Yuuri’s defense, he and Kenjirou almost always share a room because it’s cheaper… and it isn’t like Yuuri’s had planned for this to happen) and have the best fucking night of his life.

That’s all he wants. One night of Victor’s time before the Russian man moves on to better things and Yuuri fades completely off his radar.

“This... isn’t… too much?” Victor asks him just once through shuddery breath, his hands pausing in their incessant stroking of Yuuri’s chest.

“No… It’s good… More…” Yuuri manages to groan out.

That’s all it takes to get Victor pressing against him with an intensity Yuuri could almost mistake for desperation.

And Yuuri does, in fact, have the best fucking night of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Victor is in love.

It wasn’t like he had meant for it to happen! (He had insisted this to Yura, but the skater hadn’t seemed to believe him.)

Sure, Yuuri Kastuki walking into his life again was something straight out of his fantasies, but he had really planned to pretend that the Sochi banquet had never happened (it was what Yuuri said he wanted, after all), but then Yuuri had been so _beautiful,_ so _bright,_ and… so _interested_ in Victor; how could Victor not want to take him back to his room? (You don’t skate to three programs about a person and then _not_ bang them when they’re down for it, even if it’s been years since you’ve seen them.)

Victor had thought it would provide closure. He fully expected that any lingering interest in Yuuri was solely accountable to the way the man had just seduced him and disappeared, and surely once they had sex, the feeling would go away.

That was not what had happened.

Because Yuuri was so easy to talk to. True, it was a little awkward at first, but by the time Yura and his new friend left, he and Yuuri were speaking like friends, their laughs ringing together like the parts of a duet, and Victor had remembered what it was like to feel alive.

(Yuuri had made him feel alive once before too, had made him realize just how much he was neglecting himself for the sake of his sport. So he had retired, but… perhaps he’s still neglecting himself? Yuuri, once again, had made him feel things he didn’t know he had been lacking.)

“Do you think he’ll be at the banquet, Yura?” he asks, smoothing his suit’s collar with his fingers.

Yura, who had only come into Victor’s room to “make sure he didn’t get distracted again, idiot” (or so he’d claimed, but Victor had watched him steal one of his ties), scoffs.

“No, he’ll fucking ditch his bronze-winning skater,” he drawls sarcastically. “And speaking of which, you’d better not think about ditching me again.”

“Who said anything about ditching you?” Victor asks indignantly. “Don’t you have any faith in me?”

“Yeah, I give it five minutes,” Yura mutters.

It takes 30, actually, and even then he doesn’t _ditch_ Yura.

Victor is in the middle of talking to one of Yura’s sponsors (one that used to sponsor him, he thinks, but then, they all kind of blur together in his mind) when Yuuri walks in, trailing behind a beaming Kenjirou. He itches to run over to him, but even he isn’t so impulsive as to walk out on a sponsor mid-sentence, not when it’s Yura who would suffer for it. Besides, Yuuri and Kenjirou no doubt need to network for a bit, too. 

So he manages to wait for a whole half hour before he’s dragging Yura along with him to Yuuri’s side, citing “maintaining professional contacts” as his excuse. 

(“This is the least professional crap I have ever seen,” Yura hisses into his ear. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to talk with more sponsors? There was that one who wanted to set you up on a date with her daughter…” Victor responds, which shuts his student up.)

“Yuuri!” he calls out joyously. The other coach’s head whips towards him, eyes widening as if he hadn’t expected to see Victor at all. But in the next second, his mouth pulls up into a smile.

“Victor!” he responds, sounding equally happy.

Kenjirou waves them over excitedly. 

“Hi Yurio, Victor,” he says, nodding at them briefly before looking down to grab the phone out of his pocket. “Take a selfie with me, podium pal!” he suggests excitedly, stepping closer to Yura.

“Shit, wait. Let me kiss my medal,” Yura says, covering his smirk with the gold.

“Ah, I meant to congratulate you, Yurio,” Yuuri says kindly. “Your programs were stunning.”

“He totally cried at your free skate,” Kenjirou adds, causing Yuuri to flush.

For a second, Yura is taken aback, but his expression quickly turns smug.

“Because you’ll never be able to choreograph anything that good? Yeah, you should be crying.”

Victor opens his mouth to chastise Yura for his comment, but Yuuri just chuckles.

“Yes, your choreography was lovely,” he says. “Between creating your own programs and commissioning the music yourself, I don’t know what’s left for Victor to do.”

_That_ makes Yura smile.

“I don’t need him,” he says.

It hurts a little, because Victor knows it’s probably true. Yura had excelled under Yakov, could have continued to excel under him, could excel under any coach with half a brain. The only unique thing Victor can offer is his name (a brand, really—Yura may as well have “NikiforovTM“ emblazoned on his forehead), which besides attracting sponsors, offers very little. Yura has never cared about “Russia’s Living Legend,” and he’s said as much several times over.

But since it’s the millionth time he’s heard the sentiment, Victor doesn’t even blink at Yura’s words.

“I have a lot of free time,” he jokes, even though it’s not true. There are always sponsors to please, interviews to do, finances to manage… and that’s the easy part. Trying to come up with advice that Yura will actually listen to is a struggle in itself.

“Lucky you. I haven’t had a vacation in years,” Yuuri says drily.

“What?” Kenjirou exclaims. “Yuuri, you never told me you wanted a vacation!” 

He looks at his coach with watery eyes, and Yuuri jolts as if struck by lightning.

“No, no, it was just a joke, Kenjirou! I’m sorry!” Yuuri apologizes frantically. “I wouldn’t know what to do on vacation, anyway.”

Kenjirou pauses for a moment, then smiles.

“We could visit Phichit in Thailand,” he suggests.

Before Yuuri can respond, Yura cuts in.

“Phichit Chulanont?” he asks. “The guy who took silver at Worlds last season?”

Yuuri smiles brightly.

“Yes, that’s him. We, uh, used to be rinkmates before… you know…” he trails off, laughing nervously.

“Have you seen his Instagram? Ooh, and his Twitter! Look what he posted about the Final,” Kenjirou says as he makes to show Yura his phone.

With their skaters distracted, Victor focuses his full attention on Yuuri. Yuuri, who is still wearing a beautiful smile. Yuuri, who turns his bright eyes towards Victor and tilts his head adorably.

“Ah, Victor,” he says quietly. “I’m not keeping you, am I? I get it if you want to go back to mingling with everybody else. It… It was just nice to see you again, after, uh… Anyway, you must have a lot of people vying for your attention and everything… so…”

“Dance with me,” Victor says suddenly.

There are a few other people dancing, but they’re mostly couples. He and Yuuri aren’t a couple… are they? Victor doesn’t know what they are. He just knows that he wants to keep Yuuri close… And yet he can’t, because they live in two different countries.

But maybe he can have one more night.

“Uh… okay, but… I’m a little out of practice,” Yuuri says sheepishly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Victor tells him. 

Yuuri is an amazing dancer, regardless. Victor isn’t supposed to be thinking about Sochi, but it’s hard not to. And sober Yuuri is not any less enchanting than drunk Yuuri had been back then.

“If this is what you’re like out of practice, I think you’d blow me away in top form,” Victor says with a laugh as they spin around each other.

“I wish I had the chance to show you,” Yuuri replies, his shining brown eyes meeting Victor’s own, enveloping Victor in their warmth.

Yes, Victor is definitely in love.

“I hope you know that you disgust me,” Yura tells him hours later as he sends him 20 different pictures of him and Yuuri. “And I also hope you know what the fuck you’re getting yourself into, because if you get all sad again, I’m going to kill Katsuki and you both.”

“Aww, you’re the best, Yura,” Victor says sweetly as he makes a new folder for the images. He labels it “LOVE” and lets it sit right next to “DO NOT OPEN” where he keeps all the photos of the 2015 banquet that he’d told Yura he’d deleted.

“Don’t I know it,” Yura grumbles, shutting Victor’s door loudly behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Even though Kenjirou exchanged phone numbers with Yurio at the Grand Prix Final, he doesn’t actually expect Yurio to be the one to text him first, but…

— Ugh this sounds so fucking weird but  
— Can I get Katsuki’s number  
— Victor is losing his shit because he forgot to get Katsuki’s info AGAIN

Kenjirou’s eyes widen at the words on his screen. He knows that Yuuri and Victor had really hit it off at the Grand Prix Final but when Kenjirou had asked about it, Yuuri had just blushed and changed the subject.

Well, apparently Victor doesn’t want to let it go.

Kenjirou smiles slightly. Yuuri had looked so happy at dinner with Victor, even happier when he had returned to his and Kenjirou’s room early the next morning, and at the banquet… Well, Kenjirou has so many pictures of a beaming Yuuri (and Victor) on his phone that he’d had to delete some items to make room for them all.

He sighs a little, too, because he can’t make Yuuri feel this way. Yuuri and Victor have something different between them, a spark that Kenjirou has never seen Yuuri have with anyone else.

But it’s fine. He just wants Yuuri to be happy. That’s why he runs into Yuuri’s room, knocking once at the door but not pausing for Yuuri to let him in.

“Kenjirou? What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks worriedly, hastily slamming his phone down on his desk.

“Nothing’s wrong!” Kenjirou assures him quickly. “I just came to tell you that I’m giving Victor Nikiforov your phone number because you forgot to do it yourself.”

“What?” Yuuri shouts. “No, no, no, you can’t! Kenjirou, he doesn’t want that! Don’t bother him!” he says frantically.

“Yurio says he _does_ want that,” Kenjirou says cheerfully. “A lot.”

Yuuri pauses, his brow furrowing.

“Yuuri, this is _not_ the face of a man who doesn’t want your number,” Kenjirou continues, showing him a photo of the banquet dance, helpfully zoomed in on Victor’s adoring smile.

“Uh… I…” Yuuri mumbles, his fingers brushing lightly over the screen.

“What I’m hearing is ‘yes, send him my number right now, and thank you, Kenjirou, for being the best wingman ever.’ Right?” Kenjirou says with a grin, taking his phone back out of Yuuri’s hands.

“Right…” Yuuri murmurs breathlessly. “Wait, no! Kenjirou, you tricked me!”

“Sorry, Yuuri, but I can’t just let you break Victor Nikiforov’s heart like you’ve broken the hearts of … I don’t know, everyone else you’ve ever met?” Kenjirou says teasingly. “You’re actually into _this_ guy.”

“You’ve been talking to Phichit again, haven’t you?” Yuuri mutters. “You two are both terrible. He seems to think I’m getting married, you know?” he says, shaking his head. “But I doubt Victor likes me _that_ much. He probably just wants to keep in touch professionally. Like how your former coach still talks to me occasionally. It’s perfectly normal.”

“We’ll see,” Kenjirou says, chuckling, his fingers already typing Yuuri’s number into the messenger.

— Thanks

Yurio’s reply comes immediately.

— No problem! Tell Victor to hurry up and call already. Yuuri misses him.

Yuuri would not like Kenjirou’s response, but it’s totally true.

— The asshole was reading over my shoulder, so I’m sure he’ll call soon.

Sure enough, Yuuri’s phone rings within seconds.

Yuuri flails for the phone, nearly knocking it to the ground in the process, but he manages to sound normal enough when he answers it.

“Uh-huh. Hi, Victor. Did I—what? Uh, you miss me too? Well… Hmm? Yeah, I’m back in Hasetsu. Yeah, hot springs are great during the winter,” Yuuri says, his face reddening.

“Have fun, Yuuri!” Kenjirou says cheerfully, shutting Yuuri’s door behind him with a click. He makes his way back to his own room and stretches himself out on his bed.

— I’m happy for them (*^‿^*)

He isn’t sure if Yurio will respond, so he’s pleased when his phone chimes again.

— Just don’t let them get too distracted. Nationals will be a breeze, but Victor had better get his shit together before Europeans.

Kenjirou smiles.

— Don’t worry! I don’t know about Victor, but Yuuri is a great coach! I have Nationals and the 4CC to think about, so he won’t spend all day talking to Victor.  
— Good luck at your competitions, by the way!

Yurio takes a little longer to reply.

— Thanks. You’d better not even think about taking less than gold at yours. I’m not competing there, so there’s no excuse.

And that’s how he becomes texting buddies with Yuri Plisetsky.

It only makes sense for them to be friends, really, what with how close their coaches have become (and apparently, they do sometimes talk about coaching, as evidenced by Yuuri’s sudden newfound interest in filming Kenjirou’s skating, offering such excuses as “Victor wants to see your camel spin” and “Victor wants to see the advice I’m giving you”).

— Why is Victor helping you? Damn it, ask Katsuki what he thinks about MY skating

(“It’s… uh, very emotional…” Yuuri says when Kenjirou shows him the attached video.)

— He said you look too angry  
— like you’re about to stab someone  
— and if you skate like that at Worlds you’re going to lose to me

— Fuck you, he didn’t say that.

— He did in Yuuri-speak ╮(︶▽︶)╭

In fact, most of their conversations are initiated in some way by their coaches’ actions.

— VICTOR DITCHED ME ON THE ICE AGAIN   
— THIS IS SABOTAGE

— Why are you mad? (¬‿¬ ) Last week you said he wouldn’t stop nagging you 

—Shut up. You don’t understand how frustrating Victor is. We can’t all have angels for coaches.

By the time Worlds rolls around, the four of them have a strange kind of camaraderie, Kenjirou and Yurio with their friendship, and Victor and Yuuri with their… whatever their relationship is. But Yurio also messages Yuuri for his input sometimes (there were only so many times Kenjirou was willing to serve as an in-between for them before he got tired, just giving Yuuri the Russian skater’s number instead). And while Kenjirou mostly hears anything Victor says about him through Yuuri, they at least have each other’s numbers (Sometimes he tells Victor little tidbits about Yuuri, though it’s nothing Yuuri wouldn’t tell him if asked. But Victor gets incredibly excited anyway, a fact that Kenjirou will never stop reminding Yuuri of).

So, naturally, they’re excited to reunite.

“Yuuri!” Victor shouts from so far away that Kenjirou can hardly make out his face, though his rapidly waving arms signal his excitement well enough.

“Oh! Victor!” Yuuri exclaims happily, and Kenjirou thinks he probably would have run to him if it weren’t for Kenjirou himself walking beside him.

“’Sup, Kenjirou,” Yurio greets, wearing a smile for once. “Have you met Otabek yet?”

“I think we’ve competed together,” Otabek says, nodding politely. “Yura’s told me a lot about you.”

Yurio jabs his arm into Otabek’s side.

Kenjirou chuckles.

“Yeah, I could say the same,” he says, grinning when Yurio glares at him.

He and Yuuri spend a lot of time with them, though they also spend time with Phichit and some of his other friends (Leo de la Iglesia and Guang Hong Ji, two faces that Kenjirou knows well enough from how often they hang around with Phichit, though neither he nor Yuuri are very close with them).

Overall, it’s a very fun competition this year, even though he doesn’t make the podium. (He finishes a respectable fifth, just beneath Otabek. Yurio shakes his head disapprovingly at both of them and captions their selfie with #abandoned.)

Of course, the event has to come to an end eventually. Kenjirou is a bit disappointed at having to part ways… but Victor definitely wins gold in the “most devastated” category. The poor man looks as though someone’s just stolen the sun from him.

“Yuuri, promise we’ll stay in touch!” Victor begs, wrapping Yuuri in a hug from behind. His eyes close, and he seems to melt into Yuuri.

Yuuri can’t see this, though, considering that Victor is behind him. He freezes, his eyes staring forward and his mouth open in an expression of shock.

“W-We already do!” he chokes out.

“Mm, then promise we’ll keep staying in touch,” Victor says softly, his head still resting on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Yeah… Of course…” Yuuri responds in the same tone.

“That’s fucking unnecessary,” Yurio grumbles quietly enough that only Kenjirou can hear it. “Can’t they say goodbye like normal people?”

“Bye, Yurio!” Kenjirou says, waving cheerfully.

“That’s more like it,” Yurio says, his lips quirking upward. “Bye, Kenjirou. I’ll make a group chat for us and Beka later.”

“Sounds good,” Kenjirou says with a smile.

And they part.


	6. Chapter 6

Victor cannot shut up about Yuuri Katsuki, and Yuri is about ready to pull his own hair out in frustration (and wouldn’t that surprise his sponsors—if the world had once been shocked when Victor had cut his hair, imagine their surprise if Yuri were to show up bald).

Yuri can understand a _little._ Really, he can. Katsuki manages to somehow not look completely ugly (despite his questionable fashion sense, ugh), and he’s not that bad to talk to, and he can actually give half-decent skating advice when Yuri presses for it, and he’s got a wit that you’d never expect from such an unintimidating man, and really his biggest flaw is that he likes Victor of all people, but…

But damn it, Victor is HIS coach, not Katsuki’s, and the idiot should be focused on HIM, the skater who is _paying him for his stupid time._

(It hurts, just a little, because Sochi 2015 and “Be my coach, Victor!” is burned into his brain, and Yuri knows damned well that he is not the Yuri that Victor wanted to coach. But after spending four years being replacement-Victor for the skating world and replacement-Yuuri for Victor himself, he can practically ignore the pain. If he’s doomed to be a replacement, at least he’ll be a fucking outstanding one.)

Not that he needs Victor’s help! Because he definitely _doesn’t._ He can make better programs than Victor ever could, anyway (even if it does take him longer—Yuri will admit that Victor has a certain gift), and frankly, the less any part of Yuri’s success can be credited to Victor, the better.

And, certainly, a happy, lovesick Victor is a thousand times better than a heartbroken Victor. At first, Yuri was sure that Katsuki was going to dump Victor’s ass in a heartbeat, just like he had before, but… After interacting with him for the past several months, it’s clear that Katsuki doesn’t want to leave, and Victor isn’t about to let him go.

Yuri doesn’t know what Katsuki sees in Victor… but it’s not his problem, he tells himself. His soul belongs to the ice and that’s all he needs. 

But there’s Victor being Victor and then there’s Victor _being a fucking asshole._

“We’re going to Hasetsu to see Yuuri and Kenjirou!” Victor announces one morning, _over the phone_ rather than in person.

“It’s the middle of April, Victor,” Yuri hisses. “What the _hell?_ Do you want me to get flabby in the off season?”

“They have a rink if you’re worried about training,” Victor says nonchalantly. “A ballet studio, too. You like ballet.”

“Fuck you, Victor! Who says _I’m_ going?” Yuri growls.

“The flight leaves at 8 tomorrow morning,” Victor continues. “If you don’t show up, you’ll have to buy your own ticket.”

“Shut up, asshole. I’m packing my bags right now,” Yuri says, his statement punctuated by the sound of his suitcase hitting the floor. “I’ll be over for dinner, and you’d better have some real food ready. And breakfast, too. I’m not going anywhere with you on an empty stomach.”

“Mm, we wouldn’t want someone to get cranky mid-flight again,” Victor says with mocking sweetness.

“And we wouldn’t want someone to miss his flight because he wouldn’t leave the airport coffee shop again,” Yuri shoots back snidely.

“Be nicer to your coach, Yura,” Victor says whiningly. Yuri can’t see it, but he imagines the hand Victor has probably placed over his chest for dramatic effect. “Or else I’ll make you cook your own breakfast.”

“ _Goodbye,_ Victor,” Yuri says, ending the call with a flourish.

He can scarcely believe it. Victor has pulled a lot of shit (especially when he was a skater, as Yakov and anyone who has ever met a younger Victor gleefully recount every time Yuri brings up how awful Victor is), but to go all the way to Japan?

What the hell had Katsuki said to him?

He almost texts the man himself, but he thinks better of it. Katsuki’s response would go one of two ways depending on his mood: some kind of unnecessary apology, or some kind of sassy retort. The former would only annoy Yuri, and the latter, while it would probably be amusing, wouldn’t give him the answer he’s looking for.

He suffices himself with posting several angry emojis in the group chat. Kenjirou responds with some of his cutesy Japanese emoticons (“This one’s patting you on the shoulder!” he explains). Otabek sends a picture of a kitten swatting weakly at a dog “You and Victor,” he captions it, the traitor. Kenjirou has a field day with the kitten memes after this, but at least they’re cute… though his own cat, Potya, is so much cuter.

With his mood significantly improved, he finds that maybe he doesn’t mind going to Japan so much. It’s certainly not the worst idea Victor’s ever had. After all, it’s not like they’re going into isolation. They have… friends. Seeing Kenjirou should be fun, at least, and Katsuki will surely appreciate his skating more in person than through shitty phone videos.

And it’s not like Yuri even has a program for the new season yet, anyway. He’s been embarrassingly blocked, and hell, Victor had flat-out told him that his tentative theme of “overcoming” was uninspired. (“The audience will never buy it if you say it like that, Yura. What is it that you’re trying to overcome?” Victor had said. Yuri had only growled in frustration, because he didn’t _know._ The other competitors vying for gold? His own physical limits? Victor’s infinite influence? All he knows is that he can’t peak at 20, so he has to get better. Has to overcome _something._ ) 

Maybe getting out of Russia for a bit could be nice.

So even though he still thinks Victor is an asshole with terrible decision-making skills, he is, maybe, just a little excited about going to Hasetsu.


	7. Chapter 7

Sometimes Yuuri can’t believe that Victor is a real, physical presence in his life.

When they had met at the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri had assumed that Victor’s interest in him would be ephemeral. Even after they had danced at the banquet, they had still left without ceremony, without any kind of promise for the future, and Yuuri had been fine with that, because hey, at least they were parting on good terms (Yuuri had, in fact, been afraid that Victor would regret ever looking at him, so any ending that didn’t involve Victor Nikiforov regarding him with disgust was a pleasant one as far as he was concerned).

But then they had exchanged numbers (and Yuuri can’t ever thank Kenjirou enough for his help, even though Yuuri had expected it to be a disaster at the time), and now they actually talk to each other! Regularly!

And it’s better than anything Yuuri could have ever imagined. Because, yes, he had been enamored with Victor from the moment he had, at the tender age of 12, first laid eyes on him. But for all the years he had idolized him, Victor Nikiforov had still remained an image on a screen, so distant from Yuuri and as cold as the ice he’d skated on. But Victor, as a person, is so much more than a picture. He’s just as beautiful, of course, but he’s also warm, and funny, and his he’s got the softest heart that Yuuri’s ever seen. He’s also horribly stubborn, and he can be blunt to the point of offense, but Yuuri can’t say he minds all that much. Victor is the first person he’s ever really wanted to hold on to… He doesn’t have a label for their relationship, but it doesn’t matter. All he wants is to spend time with Victor for… ~~forever~~ as long as the man will have him. 

He doesn’t know the name for this feeling of his, but he’s decided to call it love.

Embarrassingly, though, it seems everyone around him is all too pleased at the development.

“Oh, are you talking to Vicchan?” his mother asks him so sweetly every time she spots him smiling at his phone (but it’s not like she’s always right! He smiles for Phichit, Kenjirou, and Yurio, too!)

“That’s my star pupil,” Minako tells him with a wink. “You get out there and get your man.” The only reason Yuuri doesn’t run out on her right then is because she’s giving him and Kenjirou free food.

“The triplets are going wild over the pictures of you two at Worlds,” Yuuko tells him, her eyes sparkling happily. “Can you believe it, Yuuri! It feels like just yesterday that the two of us were trying to copy him, doesn’t it?” (“Did you know you gained over a thousand Instagram followers since Victor posted those pics?” Loop asks. Yuuri suppresses a horrified shudder. All the more reason _not_ to post there… although perhaps he can use it to give Kenjirou some more attention. His student would probably like it.)

And Mari is the worst, because she _doesn’t_ say anything. No, his sister just gives him knowing smirks.

“Why are they like this?” Yuuri asks Kenjirou exasperatedly. “They’ve never even met him!”

And truthfully, Yuuri isn’t sure that his family ever _will_ meet Victor. They all have duties here in Hasetsu; what reason would they ever have to leave? And what reason would Victor ever have to come to a tiny town in the Saga Prefecture of Kyushu? 

A part of him aches at the thought. Hasetsu is his home, and no matter how unrealistic the thought is, he wishes Victor could be there, too.

He expresses this sentiment just once, because it’s late and he’s tired and Victor is on the phone babbling to him about Russian apartments. The words just… slip out. He assumes Victor will forget all about it.

But Victor never ceases to surprise him.

Though, frankly, Yuuri wouldn’t have minded a little more warning.

Because he wakes up one morning to the sound of loud banging on his bedroom door. He springs from his bed, flinging the door open under the assumption that there must be some terrible emergency.

Instead, Yuuri comes face to face with a shocked Yurio.

“You’re still—“ Yurio starts, but then his gaze flickers to something behind Yuuri. “Oh my god, you have a fucking poster of Victor’s—“

Yuuri doesn’t know what to say, so in a desperate attempt to buy himself some time, he does the only thing he can think of. He slams the door in Yurio’s face.

And then he immediately opens it up again, because it hits him that, shit, _he just slammed the door on three-time consecutive Grand Prix Final gold medalist Yuri Plisetsky._

“I am so sorry!” he apologizes to a scowling Yurio. “I-I didn’t— I wasn’t expecting— What _are_ you doing here?”

“Did you think I was just going to fuck around in Russia while Victor’s here?” Yurio asks acerbically.

“Victor’s here?” Yuuri repeats, blinking uncomprehendingly. 

Yurio stares at him for a moment before his eyes widen with understand.

“I can’t believe that asshole didn’t tell you!” he says with a choked laugh. He shakes his head, muttering something in Russian.

“So he really is here in Hasetsu?” Yuuri asks, his voice rising hopefully. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be here, but Yuuri wants to see him, of course he does! But wait… “He’s… He’s not right behind you or anything, is he…?

“No. Kenjirou took him to go bathe or something,” Yurio says, shrugging. “And you’d better get your ass in there soon before Victor decides to run around naked to look for you.”

“Ah, right,” Yuuri says with a chuckle. 

Yurio turns to leave, but before he can step away, Yuuri calls out to him.

“Yeah, what?” Yurio says, turning back around to glare at Yuuri.

“Please don’t mention the poster thing to Victor,” Yuuri pleads. The thought of Victor seeing any of Yuuri’s old merchandise fills him with a sense of dread. He’s considering finding a good hole to die in right now, actually.

But, see, it isn’t like his room is covered with posters the way it used to be. No, he’d taken most of them down when he’d retired (it had still hurt to think of his idol back then, when the feeling of failure was still crushing him). But there had been one that Yuuri had been so drawn to that he just had to keep it up. It was one of Victor in his free skate costume from that season. “Stay Close to Me” spoke of loneliness and longing for something you can never have, and to Yuuri, it had seemed to speak to his soul.

But he doesn’t really want to explain this to Yurio, and he certainly doesn’t want to say it to Victor. Fortunately, Yurio just rolls his eyes.

“Hell no! His ego’s big enough already,” he says in outrage. Then he pauses, though, his mouth half-open as if he’s considering swallowing his next words. But he continues, hesitantly. “You know that routine was one of his favorites? He had a phone case modeled after that stupid outfit for three years and everything,” he says, frowning. “So… all I’m saying is, he’d probably like you having that one up, if he knew. He’s a fucking sap like that.”

“Ah, uh—“ Yuuri starts to Yurio’s retreating back. “Thank you? I think?”

“Just hurry up and get out here, Katsuki,” Yurio growls without looking back.

Yuuri thinks it might be the fastest he’s ever gotten changed in his life.


	8. Chapter 8

Hasetsu is small, and quiet, and completely different from the large cities Victor has found himself in over the years. He loves it.

Despite what Yura (and Yakov, who had yelled at him for a solid five minutes when Victor called to say he wouldn’t be able to meet for drinks for the considerable future) thinks, Victor did not decide to come to Japan on a whim. His logic is steeped in two considerations.

First, Victor has been curious about Yuuri’s hometown since they had talked about it months ago in the French café. Yuuri had, technically, invited him to come back then. So when he had sleepily confessed that he wished Victor could be with him in his home, how could Victor not see it as a call to action? “Why haven’t you come yet?” is what Victor had heard. “Pursue me already.” (Maybe this was where it had all gone wrong last time. Victor should have pursued him. “On Love: Eros” is wrong. The playboy hadn’t abandoned the woman once he had caught her, but was only waiting for her to continue the game, to chase him in return. Why hadn’t she gone after what she wanted?) Victor doesn’t want to leave Yuuri waiting any longer, not when he, too, wants to be with him more than anything.

Second, Victor can see that Yura is on the brink of drowning in his own success. Oh, he has no doubt that his talented student can recover on his own. But he would never be the same. Victor knows from his own experience, after all. Once he had lost his love for skating, he had pushed himself forward for the sake of pleasing the audience, pleasing his country, pleasing everyone else without ever pleasing himself. He had been rewarded with medals and world records and countless accolades, but none of that could make him feel alive again. And he’ll be damned if he lets Yura go through the same thing without trying to do _something._ He hopes that getting out of Saint Petersburg will do the skater some good. He’s friends with Kenjirou, and he seems to listen to Yuuri’s critiques more than he listens to Victor’s own. And if Hasetsu can’t inspire Yura… Victor doesn’t know what he’ll do, but he’ll have to try something else. He isn’t above telling Yura to take a season off if it comes to it, but he’s not confident that Yura would ever actually do it. Even threatening to resign as his coach might not be enough… Yura might just let him leave (and then what would Victor do?)

But he pushes his fears aside easily enough. He can cross that bridge if he gets to it. For now, he wants to enjoy himself with Yuuri.

Okay, perhaps it might have been a good idea to mention to Yuuri that he was coming, because when Yuuri comes into the hot springs, he almost screams when Victor stands up and asks him to join him, and then he stammers out a question about what Victor is doing in his family’s resort while sounding completely confused, and Victor realizes that Yuuri’s invitation to come see him might have needed an RSVP.

“Surprise?” Victor offers instead of an explanation. Surprises are his signature, after all (well, surprises and the quad flip, but he can’t pull the latter off anymore).

Luckily, it makes Yuuri smile.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You’re always surprising me.”

So with Yuuri thankfully _not_ upset, Victor lets himself relax and enjoy what the town has to offer (“There’s really not much. I don’t know what you’re expecting to see, but you should probably lower your expectations before you get disappointed,” Yuuri tells him. But that’s ridiculous, because Victor could never be disappointed by the town where Yuuri had grown up, the town that Yuuri continues to call home).

The first delight Victor discovers in katsudon. Yuuri had mentioned it before, calling it his favorite food, but wow. _Wow._

“Vkusno!” he exclaims the first time he tries it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Yura glares at him.

“You take that back,” he insists. “You’ve had my grandpa’s pirozhki before. Don’t you dare insult them by comparing them to—“

He takes a bite of katsudon then, and his eyes widen. Victor watches in amusement as he struggles not to show his delight.

“It’s good, I guess,” he says offhandedly, taking another quick bite. “I wouldn’t say the _best,_ but…”

Kenjirou turns to him with a grin. “Yuuri’s mom makes the best katsudon ever! Oh, but Yuuri can make it really well, too,” he says, shifting his smile to Yuuri.

“Ah… thank you, Kenjirou. It’s really nothing compared to my mom’s, but it’s good enough to serve to guests, or so I’ve been told.”

“Amazing, Yuuri!” Victor says happily. “I want to eat yours sometime.”

“You do?” Yuuri asks in surprise. “Well, I guess I could make it for you… It’s not that hard. I could probably even teach you if you wan—“

“Yes!” Victor exclaims. “Show me how to make your favorite dish, Yuuri!”

“O-Okay,” Yuuri agrees, chuckling. “Yurio, do you want to learn, too?”

“If Victor can do it, I can do it,” Yura says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And mine won’t suck like his will.”

“Ooh, a katsudon cook-off!” Kenjirou says excitedly. “I bet I can make it better than you, Yurio! Yuuri, you’ll judge us, won’t you?”

“If… If that’s what you all want?” Yuuri replies, glancing between the two skaters and then looking into Victor’s eyes questioningly.

“Hmm… sounds fun!” Victor says, tilting his head slightly to flutter his eyelashes at Yuuri. “I’ll make sure I’m the only one who satisfies your hunger, _Yuuri,_ ” he purrs.

Victor watches as Yuuri swallows thickly, eyes darkening. He opens his mouth to continue, but he’s stopped with a sharp jab to his side courtesy of Yura’s elbow.

“It’s cheating if you sleep with the judge,” Yura complains. “Haven’t you heard of ethics?”

“Yeah, wait a minute,” Kenjirou adds. “He can’t compete with us! Yuuri likes him too much!”

Before Yuuri can protest, Victor moves to sit beside him.

“They’re afraid to lose to me, Yuuri,” Victor says with mock sadness as he slings an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri stiffens at the touch, but he relaxes in the next instant, releasing his breath in a sigh.

“Like hell I am!” Yura shouts angrily. “You can barely scramble an egg, idiot. Why would I be afraid? Katsuki’s the one who should fear his taste buds falling off.”

“Um…” Yuuri says nervously, shifting slightly closer to Victor. “Maybe we can get someone else to judge, instead.”

“Someone else,” as it turns out, means three 11-year old girls, as Victor finds out a couple weeks later. (“They’re named after skating moves? How cute!” Victor had told Yuuri. Little had he known that the triplets are the most terrifying children in the world.)

“You cooked it for too long,” Lutz tells Victor matter-of-factly. “It’s dry and terrible.”

Over a decade of competitive skating and still Victor has never been so devastated to receive criticism. He clutches at Yuuri’s arm while Yura and Kenjirou laugh at him.

But Yura stops laughing when the triplets get to _his_ dish.

“Did you put every onion in the kitchen in here?” Loop asks. “You can’t taste anything else. It’s disgusting. I can’t even eat it.”

“You little— I’ll show y— That is— F-forget it.” Yura says, clearly struggling not to fall into his normal swearing habit in front of the girls. 

Now it’s Victor’s turn to laugh.

“Shut up, Victor! You know dam— You know that I’m a great cook. Stop laughing right now or I’ll never make you food again!” Yura shouts.

“I’d love to try your cooking, Yurio,” Yuuri says, which surprises Yura into closing his mouth. “We’ll just make sure to keep the onions away from you,” he continues, his lips twitching as he attempts to keep a straight face.

“I hate every single one of you,” Yura mutters.

“Kenjirou’s katsudon is perfectly uninteresting,” Axel says finally. “Totally boring! Could have come from any convenience store in the country! But it was the only one we could finish, so he wins” she says.

“Harsh,” Kenjirou says, grinning. “I just want to say that I’m honored to have been chosen as the winner, and both of my opponents gave me a run for my money. And—“

“Be quiet and savor the moment, Kenjirou,” Yura says, cutting him off. “Because this is the only time you’re going to beat me at anything.”

“No way! This is just the start of my winning streak!” Kenjirou insists.

Yuuri puts a hand on Victor’s arm.

“You’re not too upset with losing a cooking competition, I hope?” he asks quietly, a teasing smile on his face.

“Oh, Yuuri, I’m heartbroken,” Victor drawls sarcastically. “How am I supposed to win you over if I can’t cook you katsudon?”

Yuuri chuckles.

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “And I can always show you how to do it again, if you really want to learn. It will probably be easier for us if Yurio and Kenjirou aren’t in their competing over bowls.”

“Ah, there’s a thought—competitive dishwashing! Do you think we could get them to do it?” Victor says, laughing.

Yuuri laughs with him, and Victor feels himself falling more and more in love by the second

Yes, coming to Hasetsu was the best idea he’s ever had.


	9. Chapter 9

Kenjirou had never expected Victor and Yurio to suddenly turn up in Hasetsu, but he certainly isn’t going to complain about it.

Yurio does enough complaining for the both of them.

It comes in several flavors.

“Why does Victor suck at coaching?”

“Why does Katsudon even like Victor?” (Yurio had, amusingly, started calling Yuuri after the dish. Kenjirou can tell that Yuuri likes it, at least more than he liked the cold “Katsuki” that used to roll of Yurio’s lips.)

And, more recently, “Why can’t I come up with a good fucking theme?”

Kenjirou doesn’t know how to comfort him. He already has his own theme for the upcoming season—ouroboros, a symbol of the cyclicality of the universe. (“That’s actually cool,” Yurio had told him. “Wish I had thought of it.”) And whenever he tries to offer his advice or make a suggestion, Yurio brushes it off. Apparently it’s a problem that he wants to solve on his own.

So Kenjirou stops pressing. Instead, he tries to draw Yurio into other activities when they aren’t doing their off-season training.

“Let’s go out together,” he suggests. “We can leave Yuuri and Victor can live without us for a little while.”

They go to Minako’s snack bar, where Yurio and Minako get into a heated discussion of Russian ballet dancers that Kenjirou can’t quite follow. Kenjirou is fine with just watching, though. It’s amazing to watch Yurio when he’s passionate about something. The man is like a force of nature, fierce and uncontainable, and Kenjirou can understand why, of all the nickname’s Yurio has acquired over the years, “Ice Tiger” is the one that has stuck with him the longest.

But Yurio is beautiful, too, beneath his ferocity, beneath his insults and swears. When he gives you a true smile, his face lights up, and it’s like watching the sun emerge after a thunderstorm.

Kenjirou had never thought he would feel this way about Yurio of all people, had never experienced anything like this when they’d known each other in Juniors (though perhaps that was because he was so enraptured by Yuuri back then. In truth, he still thinks Yuuri is one of the best people on the entire planet. But Yuuri is so happy with Victor. Even if Kenjirou had the slightest chance with him, Yuuri would never shine as brightly with him as he does with Victor. How can he do anything but hope for Yuuri and Victor’s happiness?)

Yurio, at least, is not in love with anyone (“My heart is with the ice, where it belongs,” Yurio had told him). He and Otabek had dated for a few months when they were younger, but both are now adamant that they work better as friends. But that being said, it’s clear that it isn’t the time for Kenjirou to confess his feelings. What Yurio needs now is a friend and some relaxation, not the stress of a new romantic relationship.

So Kenjirou decides to keep his feelings quiet for the time being. For now, he’s happy to be Yurio’s biggest cheerleader. 

“Ganba, Yurio,” he murmurs quietly into his drink.

“What was that?” Yurio asks, turning to him.

“Oh, I was just saying some words of encouragement!” Kenjirou says with a smile.

“To your _drink?_ ” Yurio asks incredulously. 

Kenjirou laughs.

“It’s a soft drink,” he says. “It needs to be sweet-talked.”

Yurio rolls his eyes.

“That was a terrible joke,” he says, the meaning of his words belied by the smile on his face.

Kenjirou just grins back at him.

Yurio looks happy tonight, and that’s exactly what Kenjirou wants.


	10. Chapter 10

Yuri doesn’t hate it in Hasetsu. It’s not his home, but the people there are so welcoming that he doesn’t feel an overwhelming sense of not belonging. He’s an outsider, but an accepted one. People know him, not as a figure skating champion, but as Katsudon’s foreign friend.

“Does everything in this town revolve around Yuuri Katsuki?” he asks Kenjirou. Apparently the answer is yes, because he’s a homegrown hero to the people of Hasetsu or something. Yuri wonders if it’s nice. He’s a bit of a hero to Russia, but only a second-generation one. Like with everything else, Victor had done it first. Nothing Yuri does ever seems to break him free of Victor’s shadow.

But here in Hasetsu, the residents don’t know Victor, either. Well, most of them, anyway. Katsudon’s family know him as the skater Katsudon had once looked up to. (Yuri recalls the poster he had seen in the man’s room. He doesn’t understand how Katsudon can possibly love a man whose entire career was built on a false image. Though perhaps it says something that the poster features Victor in “Stay Close to Me.” It’s the only Victor Nikiforov program Yuri can stand, because it’s the only one that ever spoke the truth—even if the truth it spoke was a pathetic cry that most of the world never understood, that Yuri himself hadn’t understood for years.)

And Katsudon’s childhood friends follow competitive figure skating, so of course they recognize both Yuri and Victor. But that’s actually convenient, because they own the Ice Castle, and they’re more than happy to let him and Victor train there, even if Katsudon and Kenjirou aren’t coming along. Yuuko even tells him that he can have some ice time after regular hours if he wants, and it’s an offer he gladly takes her up on.

It’s nice to have some time to himself (even if the Nishigori triplets are a little too fond of filming him. They like his skating more than his katsudon, apparently).

But he doesn’t realize that he isn’t the only one taking advantage of the Nishigori family’s generosity. SO when he walks in one evening only to see one Yuuri Katsuki on the ice, the surprise stops him in his tracks.

Because Katsudon should not be doing fucking flawless triples out there.

And shit, they aren’t just random jumps; Katsudon is doing “Stay Close to Me.” Downgraded jumps and lack of music aside, Yuri knows damn well what he’s seeing. It’s a thing of beauty.

“Aren’t you a little old to be skating Victor’s free skates?” he asks coldly when Katsudon has finished.

“Ah! Yurio! You were watching me?” Katsudon asks, covering his reddening face with his hands. “Yuuko didn’t tell me anyone else was coming…”

“So, what, you just skate gold-winning routines in your free time?” Yuri continues. 

“I… Well, I… I have to do something to keep in shape, Yurio!” Katsudon says as he makes his way off the ice. “I gain weight so easily, and Kenjirou needs a coach who can keep up with him…”

“You are fucking unbelievable. Do you think Victor still skates like that? No, because years of injuries have finally caught up to him. I bet you skate that program better than he can now.” Yuri shakes his head. “If this is what you can do now, why weren’t you out there kicking Victor’s ass as a competitor? Why the hell did you retire, Katsudon?”

“You know why I retired,” Katsudon says, sighing as though he’s exhausted. “You were there. As I recall, you even told me to.”

Yuri flinches back. His first meeting with Katsudon had been exceptionally terrible. Yuri had been so disappointed to see Katsudon fail and had gone to ask what the hell had happened, but he’d been so furious at his own feelings that when he had seen the older skater crying, he’d opened his mouth and started yelling. He’d told him to retire, even though that was the last thing he actually wanted.

“Idiot, I was trying to motivate you,” he mutters in embarrassment. “Why would you listen to a dumb teenager, anyway?”

Katsudon chuckles.

“Did you think I was blaming you? Don’t take it the wrong way,” he says, smiling faintly. “You weren’t the only one saying it. I felt like everyone wanted me to retire. So I did.”

“You should have showed them you were better. You should have shut them up with your skating,” Yuri insists.

“I… I should have tried…” Katsudon admits. “I regretted my decision to retire because I realized that I still wanted to skate. But I had already announced it, and I felt like I couldn’t take it back.”

“Ugh, that’s disgusting,” Yuri says, scowling. “No wonder you and Victor get along—you’re exactly the same! You’re both pathetic losers who let other people decide how you’ll live your life.”

“Yurio—“ Katsudon starts, but Yuri quickly cuts him off.

“He kept on skating when he didn’t want to because he didn’t want to disappoint anyone! You _stopped_ skating even though you _did_ want to because _you_ didn’t want to disappoint anyone! Why didn’t you just do what you wanted? You didn’t even try!” Yuri says accusingly. “Damn, I hope I never become that stupid.”

Katsudon frowns.

“I’m not going to apologize, Yurio,” he says. “What do you want me to do? I made my decision a long time ago. I’m not a competitor anymore; I’m a coach. Now I’m just happy to watch Kenjirou succeed.”

“And you’re really satisfied with that?” Yuri asks. “You could have been something great! Hell, you could still be something great! Do a show or something, you idiot. Or make some fucking stellar programs for Kenjirou. Fuck, just do something to make people remember you! You’re wasting your talent if all you do is sit around telling Kenjirou to do things he’s already good at.”

“Yurio… I don’t…” Katsudon starts. 

“Be quiet, Katsudon.” Yuri says, brushing past him. “I came here to skate. Watch me or leave, whatever, but just think about what I told you.”

And so Katsudon stays, and he keeps quiet just as Yuri told him. It’s only after Yuri is done, when he turns his gaze back to the Japanese coach, and lets out a half-sarcastic “So? What’s your expert opinion?” that Katsudon speaks again.

“It… was… technically great,” he says slowly. “But… something about the rhythm was… off.”

“I didn’t have the music,” Yuri says defensively.

“That’s… not what I meant…” Katsudon says. 

Yuri knows what he meant. Of course his rhythm is off! He feels like he’s just going through the motions! 

“Well, how the hell do I fix it?” he snaps. Despite his tone, he’s serious about wanting an answer. Victor’s solution is to keep doing the moves, again and again until it works. But the problem is that it _isn’t_ working. Even if he nails every step sequence and jump with exact precision, Yuri can tell that there’s still something wrong. If he goes and skates like this in competition, if he wins with components that feel so fake, then, god, he really will be nothing more than Victor 2.0, just another false idol.

He scowls at the thought.

He has to overcome this weakness.

Oh. Overcoming. He can suddenly see his theme clearly in his mind. Yuri won’t let himself turn into Victor. He’ll triumph over his own weaknesses and prove to everyone that he’s the better skater.

“You look like you thought of something,” Katsudon says with that faint smile of his.

“Yeah,” Yuri mutters. And then, after a pause, he continues. “Thanks, Katsudon.”

“Ah… But I didn’t do anything?” Katsudon says hesitantly.

“Shut up,” Yuri responds. “Would I waste my time thanking you for no reason?”

Katsudon chuckles.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: hmm, Kenjirou and Yurio need to swap coaches! *writes it*
> 
> Also me: Shit wait aren't there regulations about who can be a coach??? 
> 
> So they just UNOFFICIALLY swap coaches
> 
> (artistic liberties)

Yuuri knows that the past month he’s spent with Victor has been one of the happiest of his life.

What he can’t seem to figure out is how to interact with Victor’s student.

Most of the time, he doesn’t have to. He, Victor, Kenjirou, and Yurio normally spend time as a group together. Or it’s him and Kenjirou, and Victor and Yurio. Or it’s him and Victor, and Kenjirou and Yurio go off to do who-knows-what. 

It isn’t that Yuuri doesn’t like Yurio. He likes Yurio a lot, even if he could do without the Russian skater’s overly prickly exterior.

“Don’t mind him, Yuuri,” Victor assures him. “Yura’s like a sea urchin. Very spiny outside, very vulnerable inside.” 

And when he watches Yurio skate at the Ice Castle, Yuuri thinks that he might be catching a glimpse of the younger man’s vulnerable inside.

But Yurio had also given him something to think about, too. _Is_ he satisfied with the way his life is going? If someone had asked him this six months ago, before he had met Victor, the answer might have been more ambivalent. Coaching was never his desired profession; he had only taken it up so that he could remain a part of the sport he loved.

But now, he has Victor. Yuuri had never had Victor’s attention as a competitor… and probably would never have been able to catch it. So it’s good that he had retired, no matter what Yurio thinks about it. His dream had always been to skate on the same ice as Victor. Now, Victor is skating on the very ice that Yuuri had first practiced on as a child. 

But Yurio had also said something about Victor. Yuuri isn’t sure if it’s a good idea to ask Victor about it. He isn’t sure if he’s _allowed_ to ask, if they’re close enough for it… But surely Yurio wouldn’t have mentioned something that Yuuri isn’t supposed to know? And Yuuri is… curious. So he tries to breach the subject lightly.

“Victor… You still do ice shows sometimes, right?” he asks. It’s just the two of them in the hot spring, with Kenjirou and Yurio having left together for an evening jog. 

“Mm… I do,” Victor replies. His eyes, closed in relaxation, flutter open to fix their attention on Yuuri.

“Do you… like them?” Yuuri asks hesitantly. “That is, I mean, is it… fun for you to do?”

Victor pauses for a moment. His eyes close again, and he sinks deeper into the water.

“My soul belongs to the ice, Yuuri,” he says. “It’s impossible for me to stay away from it.”

That’s not a “yes,” Yuuri notes, but he doesn’t mention it.

“I understand,” he says instead. “I can’t imagine my life without skating being part of it.”

“Are you thinking about doing an ice show, then?” Victor asks, opening his eyes again. “You should. You hardly ever skate in public anymore. You’re depriving your poor fans,” he says with a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, uh, no. No, no, I wasn’t— No,” Yuuri says, laughing nervously.

Suddenly, Victor stands. His hands find their way to Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yuuri has to stifle a gasp.

“You’re getting tense,” Victor says softly. “Why? Does the thought of performing for an audience again frighten you?” He rubs his water-warmed hands against Yuuri’s skin, and it feels comforting.

“Ah… That’s not it, exactly…” Yuuri says, sighing as he leans into Victor’s touch. True, the thought of thousands of people watching him fail again is horrifying, but then, it’s not like he would have to do anything too hard. Nothing competition-worthy. Nobody would be expecting quads from him.

“It excites you, then,” Victor murmurs, mouth close to Yuuri’s ear.

“That’s… That’s not what I…” Yuuri starts, but he trails off. Doesn’t it excite him? It’s embarrassing to admit, though. And besides, why would anyone _else_ get excited about boring Yuuri Katsuki skating?

“Who would want to see me, anyway?” he mumbles. “I’m a dime-a-dozen coach who used to be a dime-a-dozen figure skater before I humiliated myself in front of everyone by flubbing every jump in my arsenal.”

Yuuri feels Victors hands leave him. He tilts his head back to look, but all he can see is Victor’s frowning face. Suddenly, Victor’s hands are right above him, and a cascade of water comes pouring down on his head.

“Wh-What was that for?” Yuuri splutters as he wipes water droplets from his face.

“Just washing away that bad attitude,” Victor says with a grin that doesn’t meet his eyes, which are hard with anger. “You forget that you were “Japan’s Ace,” Yuuri. You had a huge following when you were active. And people are still interested in you.”

“Yes, because you keep posting pictures with me,” Yuuri says, chuckling. 

Victor hums disapprovingly.

“Hey, don’t look so mad,” Yuuri says, averting his gaze from Victor’s intense stare. Victor’s hands return to his shoulders, but Yuuri doesn’t react to them this time.

“Yuuri,” Victor murmurs, his fingers tightening against Yuuri’s skin. “I just want to see you do something exciting. I know you still have fire in you. Don’t you want to show everyone?”

“Ah…” 

He does. He’s so much better for having met Victor, and he wants so badly to scream it to the world. And skating is the only language he could possibly come close to describing his feelings in.

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

But he doesn’t actually get much of a chance to consider the idea, because a few days later, Yurio comes to him.

“Katsudon,” he says, nodding once in greeting before continuing on without preamble. “Choreograph my free skate.”

“What?” Yuuri asks in shock. Surely he’s misunderstanding something. Yurio has choreographed his own programs since he was 17. Yuuri had been under the impression that this was a source of pride for him. And even if Yurio doesn’t want to make his own free skate this season, shouldn’t he be going to Victor?

“Let me make it clear. I’m a Grand Prix Final gold medalist, a World Figure Skating Championships gold medalist, and an Olympic silver medalist. Soon to rectify the last one,” Yurio says, grimacing slightly. “And I’m coming to you professionally. You’re not going to say no, are you?”

“Well, I— I can probably come up with _something,_ but…” Yuuri shakes his head slightly in attempt to clear the confusion that still clouds his mind.

“Not just anything,” Yurio insists. “It has to actually be _good,_ Katsudon. You know the jumps I’m capable of already. None of them will be a problem. I want to improve my PCS score. You can make me something that will let me maximize that, right?”

“Uh…” Honestly, Yuuri can think of a few ideas. Yurio’s programs tend to feature a fast and furious flurry of jumps and spins. They’re technical masterpieces, but half the time Yurio is little more than a blur on the ice. If Yurio wants a change this season, Yuuri’s not going to discourage him.

But still, for Yurio to come to him…

“Are you sure you want _me_ to do it, Yurio? I’m not—“

“Katsudon, if you finish that sentence I _will_ kick you.” Yurio says sharply. “I’ve been holding myself back, but if you keep being stupid I swear I’m going to do it. _Yes,_ I want _you_ to be the choreographer. And don’t even think about mentioning Victor.”

Yuuri, who had just opened his mouth to mention Victor, shuts it with a blush.

“Look, fuck, are you going to make me compliment you out loud? Fine. I like your shit, okay?” Yurio says. “My theme this year is about overcoming weakness. That’s why I don’t want to keep doing the same thing I’ve been doing forever. And Victor’s… ugh, he’s _fine,_ but I’m not learning anything new with him. But I thought, hey, Katsudon has good advice sometimes, maybe I can actually improve at something under him.”

“Wait… Yurio, are you asking me to _coach_ you?” Yuuri asks, his eyes widening. “Because I’m… I’m not qualified— The Figure Skating Federation of Russia won’t— Not… Not that I don’t want to help you, but—“

“Calm down, Katsudon. Obviously Victor would be my official coach,” Yurio says, rolling his eyes. “But seeing as we’re staying in Japan, skating at the same rink as you, eating your mother’s food—“ he says, smirking. “—I don’t think we’ll have much of a problem on our hands.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, blinking.

Oh. Yurio is staying in Japan. _Victor_ is staying in Japan. Maybe even for the whole season.

“O-Of course I’ll do whatever I can for you, Yurio,” he says, smiling. “I mean, I have to focus on Kenjirou, but…”

He trails off at the look on Yurio’s face.

“I’ve been talking with Kenjirou,” Yurio says, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “And he likes my idea, first of all. But we were discussing things, and… We figured that we could do an exchange, of sorts. While you’re working with me, Kenjirou can work with Victor.”

“I… I see,” Yuuri says, surprised that Yurio and Kenjirou would actually come up with a plan to swap coaches together. Then again, they have been growing closer lately, and Yuuri supposes it could be beneficial. He still doubts that he has anything better to offer Yurio than Victor does, but Kenjirou can certainly benefit from Victor’s guidance.

“I guess it’s okay, then,” Yuuri continues. “If Victor is okay with it, of course.”

Yurio snorts.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

Victor is very okay with it.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaims joyously, wrapping his arms around Yuuri. “This is going to be so fun! We’ll shake up all the fans’ expectations!”

Yuuri just hopes this doesn’t become a disaster.


	12. Chapter 12

Victor wouldn’t have thought that he would ever be pleased to hear that Yura wants someone else to be his coach. But then, he also wouldn’t have thought that that “someone else” would be Yuuri Katsuki. And everything that Yuuri Katsuki does seem to please and delight him these days.

And besides, he gets to work with Kenjirou Minami, Yuuri’s cheerful, adorable student. 

“Ouroboros,” Victor reads off his phone. “Often taken to symbolize introspection, the eternal return or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself.”

The serpent eating its own tail. Victor thinks he knows how to relate.

“Are you trying to recreate yourself, Kenjirou?” he asks, laying on false cheer for the skater’s sake.

_’Don’t,’_ he thinks. _’Once you’re in too deep, it truly is a cycle that never ends.’_

But Kenjirou shakes his head.

“Not really,” he says. “I do want to try something a little more serious than my usual programs, though. I mostly skate to upbeat songs, and it’s a lot of fun, but I’d like to try expressing a larger range of emotions.”

“Broad emotional range, okay,” Victor says, humming as he taps his finger against his face. “I can do that.”

“Since ouroboros represents the cycle of life and death, I was thinking my programs could juxtapose them.”

“Life and death? That’s a bit cliché, but maybe if…” Victor frowns in concentration. “A death first, a celebration of rebirth, and then life, the tragic realization that nothing has changed…”

“You’re going to make life seem tragic?” Kenjirou asks, frowning. “Well… Okay, I guess I trust you. You’re a genius, after all. You’re not like Yuuri, but I guess that’s the point?” He offers Victor a grin.

“You’re in good hands,” Victor says, holding up his hands as if in demonstration. His grin mirrors Kenjirou’s. “I’ll make you something that will blow the audience away.”

It’s been a while since he’s had so much creative control. Yura refuses to accept anything but the most minor of suggestions regarding his choreography, and yet now here he is, given almost free reign over Kenjirou’s programs. It’s exciting. It’s fresh. It’s the opportunity he hadn’t known he’d needed.

And he doesn’t have to leave Yuuri’s side for it.

Victor has never been so drawn to a person before. And yet, he has never had such an ill-defined relationship before. Relationships used to be clear-cut for him. Victor and Makkachin, human and pet. Victor and Chis, fellow competitors. Victor and Yakov, student and coach. Victor and Yura, coach and student. But what are he and Yuuri? He doesn’t know.

So he asks.

“What do you want me to be to you?”

It’s just the two of them at the beach. Everything is quiet, save for the cries of the seagulls. Even the sea is calm. 

Yuuri turns to him, a question in his eyes, but he does not speak, merely waits for Victor to elaborate.

“Do you want me to be your mentor?” Victor asks. Yuuri remains silent, but his lips quirk ever so slightly downwards. Not that, then.

“Your friend?” he continues. “Your lover?” 

“No, no!” Yuuri exclaims, his face flushing.

Well, that’s a shame, because Victor would love to get Yuuri in his bed again. He’d been too frantic last time, too desperate, afraid that Yuuri would evaporate before his eyes if he took too long. He could do it better now, he’s sure, if only Yuuri wanted…

But it’s fine. Victor will be whatever Yuuri wants. He will be happy as long as he can keep Yuuri in his life.

“I just want you to be yourself!” Yuuri insists with so much sincerity that Victor almost gasps.

But apparently Yuuri wants him to be the one thing he doesn’t know how to be. But then, that’s only because he’s never had the chance. Like an ouroboros, he’s always consuming himself, becoming something new before he’s even gotten used to what he was before. It’s been this way since he was only a child, but… Why should it continue? Gone are the days of gold medals hanging around his neck like shackles. Maybe here, with Yuuri by his side, he can finally be the person he wants to be rather than the person everyone else wants him to be.

A palpable sense of relief washes over him at the thought, and he gives Yuuri a smile so bright that he swears he can see it reflected in the man’s brown eyes.

Maybe he can’t define his and Yuuri’s relationship right now, but he can at least define his own feelings. He loves Yuuri, so deeply, on a level he’s never managed with any other person (he’d loved Makkachin, will always love the dog that had been his best friend from the ages of 12 to 31, but there’s something about human companionship that even his dearest companion couldn’t give him).

The strength of his emotions is so overwhelmingly powerful that he can’t contain himself. He has to straddle Yuuri’s lap to do it, but he wraps his arms around him, clutching Yuuri to his chest.

“Victor…” Yuuri breathes. His eyes close, and his arms squeeze Victor tightly.

Their night of sexually intimacy in Marseille, Victor thinks, has nothing on this. This is a different kind of intimacy entirely. He feels like they’re bearing their souls on the sand, with only nature as their witness.

The sound of Yuuri’s heartbeat (or is it his own? They’re blending together) lulls him, and for the first time in a long while, Victor feels completely at peace.


	13. Chapter 13

Kenjirou respects Yuuri more than any other skater in the world. His step sequences were unmatched, his PCS scores were always the highest, and he always skated with so much innate musicality that his program music could have been an afterthought. The news of his retirement had devastated every figure skating fan in Japan, not to mention his international fans, and Kenjirou had been so, so lucky to convince Yuuri to coach him. Kenjirou knows he’s improved so much because of Yuuri. So working with Victor Nikiforov instead is… exciting, in a way, because everyone knows his choreography is amazing, and he’s been doing a good job for the past four years as Yurio’s coach… but it’s also different, in a slightly uncomfortable way.

“Um, Victor,” he says slowly. “The choreography looks good and all, but… I can’t do a quad flip? And honestly my quad salchow could use some work…” he says, offering Victor a hesitant smile.

“I don’t see the problem,” Victor says cheerfully. “Isn’t that what practice is for?”

“Yeah, but… Uh, what do you think, Yuuri?” Kenjirou says, shooting a glance at Yuuri, who’s standing next to Victor frowning down at his notes for Yurio’s free skate. 

Yuuri looks up at the sound of his name.

“Your salchow is a lot better than I ever managed to get it,” Yuuri says. “I think you can get it down by the time you have to compete,” he says with a smile. “And you should use this opportunity to learn the quad flip from Victor. He’ll do a better job that I would.”

“C’mon, Kenjirou, catch _up,_ ” Yurio says teasingly. “I was doing quad sals at 15, and I had the flip at 18. I thought you were supposed to be my rival?”

Kenjirou narrows his eyes playfully.

“You want to see me do a quad flip? Careful, Yurio, I already won bronze without it,” he warns. “You might never get back on top of that podium again.”

“There’s no fun in beating you if you’re not at your best,” Yurio says with a smirk. 

“Victor!” Kenjirou says, now determined. “Teach me the quad flip before the Grand Prix Final!”

“Okay!” Victor agrees happily. “You keep that attitude and we’ll make you a gold medalist this season for sure!”

“Katsudon, we’re not letting these guys beat us,” Yurio insists. “Get your act together and up the difficulty of that free skate.”

“But… I haven’t even shown you anything yet…” Yuuri says, frowning in confusion.

“I already know you’re underestimating what I can do, Katsudon, and I’m not having it,” Yurio says.

Yuuri sighs and scratches out something on his paper.

“I guessed you would say that,” he mutters. “Fine, I’ll rework it. In the meantime, you’d better redouble your training at Minako’s, because I’m not letting your ballet skills go to waste.”

Yurio says nothing, just looks Yuuri straight in the eye and nods once.

And so they pass their time perfecting their programs. By the time the assignments for the Grand Prix series come out, Kenjirou knows the choreography and music he’s using, and Yuuri and Yurio have finally come to an agreement about the free skate (Yurio had crafted his short program himself, but Kenjirou suspects from its design that he asked for Yuuri’s input at the very least).

“Skate America,” Yurio mutters as he reads off the screen. “Fuck, with JJ. What a drag.”

“The fans will be excited,” Kenjirou points out. “JJ’s Girls vs Yuri’s Angels! The fandom rivalry is legendary!”

“I don’t care if they get excited; I just don’t want to see his hideous face so soon,” Yurio complains.

“Don’t let Yura fool you,” Victor chimes in, chuckling. “He doesn’t hate JJ _that_ much. Last season he even gave him some pirozhki he’d made. So sweet!”

“They were for his _wife,_ dumbass,” Yurio says loudly. “Because she’s actually a decent person and we were talking about food and I’d made some anyway. And then that asshole JJ just butts in and thanks me and starts fucking eating. And then Isabella wanted to go, so they left before I could tell him how gross he looks when he chews.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Victor sing-songs.

“Maybe you need some fucking glasses,” Yurio suggests sharply.

Victor brightens, turning to Yuuri.

“What? Oh— Oh, no,” Yuuri says as Victor snatches the frames off his face. “Victor, no, _I_ need those. Come on, I can hardly see!”

Kenjirou laughs as Yuuri pulls insistently on the sleeve of Victor’s shirt. 

“I’ll read my assignments out for you, Yuuri,” he says, scanning the computer screen. “I’ve got the NHK Trophy and the Rostelecom Cup.”

“I’ve got Rostelecom, too,” Yurio says, his eyes lighting up. “Maybe my grandpa can come.”

“Ooh, I want to meet him!” Kenjirou says excitedly. “He must be wonderful; you’re always talking about him.”

“He is,” Yurio agrees, smiling softly.

Victor opens his mouth to say something, but it dissolves into a whine when Yuuri manages to grab his glasses back.

“Okay, so that’s Skate America, NHK Trophy, and Rostelecom Cup,” Yuuri says, glancing over the assignments himself now that he’s able to see again. “In that order.”

Kenjirou and Yurio nod in unison.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us,” Victor says solemnly, but then he grins. “Kenjirou, are you ready to win?”

So Kenjirou and Yurio crack down on their practice, spending more and more time on the ice.

Victor is a surprisingly serious coach, pushing Kenjirou harder and further than even Kenjirou knew he could go. Yuuri is such a careful coach, always cautious of Kenjirou’s boundaries, always insisting that he should take it slow, not hurt himself, work more tomorrow (even though Yuuri himself will work well into the earliest hours of the morning if Kenjirou—or more lately, Victor or Yurio—doesn’t protest), but it isn’t until he’s sailing through the air in a perfect quadruple salchow that Kenjirou admits to himself that Yuuri’s approach… isn’t necessarily what he needs.

“I got it! Victor! Four rotations _and_ the landing!” he exclaims. Excitedly, he runs at his unofficial coach, pulling him into an embrace. This is another thing he can’t do with Yuuri, who stiffens up when presented with unexpected affection (although he’s amusingly receptive to Victor—yet another reason Kenjirou suspects the two men are made for each other). But Victor is an open, tactile person, and there is nothing but excitement on his face when Kenjirou hugs him.

“Amazing!” Victor says. “I told you that you already had enough power! All you needed was to fix your timing, yes? Good job, Kenjirou!”

Unfortunately, the quad flip isn’t going nearly as well, and all Kenjirou gets is a constant torrent of criticism (“He gets that from our old coach Yakov,” Yurio tells him with a snort. “He doesn’t know how to do anything else, I guess, but it’s awful, isn’t it?”)

And yet, Kenjirou doesn’t feel too down about it. On the contrary, he finds himself pushing himself even harder. He can tell that Yuuri and Yurio are a powerful combination, and if Kenjirou wants to make it to the top of the podium, he’s going to have to be better than ever before. So he listens to Victor’s every word and he practices, practices, practices.

“Again, Kenjirou!” Victor shouts, the cheerful smile never wavering.

So Kenjirou skates again.


	14. Chapter 14

The time has come for Yuri to compete at Skate America, and he doesn’t know what the fuck his problem is, but his skating is still _wrong._

Granted, it’s better than it was at the beginning of the season. It had taken months for Katsudon to become comfortable with acting like a coach around him, but now that has, Yuri can tell that his teachings are helping. Yuri’s footwork is clearer, less hurried. And Katsudon is easier to bear than Victor ever was. Katsudon is quiet and thoughtful in his criticism (to the point where Yuri sometimes has to pry it out of him, although that’s happening less and less often, thankfully), unlike Victor who never shuts up (“How are you not sick of him yet?” Yuri asks Kenjirou, but apparently the Japanese skater appreciates Victor’s endless commentary).

And yet, for all their progress, there’s still something missing, something that Yuri just can’t capture.

(“You’re not connecting with the program,” Katsudon tells him. “A-And at first I thought there was something wrong with the choreography I did, but… It’s happening in your short program, too.” His eyes gleam like he has something else to say, but he holds his tongue. Yuri is grateful, because if he were pressed on this, he suspects his speech would very quickly devolve into yelling.)

It just doesn’t make sense! For years he’s been doing everything to prove that he’s the world’s top skater. His jumps are better than Victor’s, his stamina is better than Victor’s, everything about him is better than Victor! But now that he has the chance to definitively prove that he doesn’t need Victor’s help, he’s suddenly “not connecting” with his routines? The hell?

But he _has_ to win gold this season if he has any hope of beating Victor’s 6-season streak at a younger age than Victor. And Yuri _will_ make sure that happens. Victor may have once possessed unparalleled genius, but Yuri works harder. He already knows he’s the better skater, he just has to _prove_ it, to the FFKK, to the ISU, to every figure skating fan in the world.

“Yurio?” Kenjirou’s voice rouses Yuri from his thoughts. “Are you alright?” Kenjirou continues, placing a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. It’s warm.

“Yes,” Yuri replies, because he is. He is _alright._ And what he needs to be is _outstanding._

“I think our rooms are ready,” Kenjirou says, smiling. “Let’s get settled and then send Otabek 500 pictures of all the fun he’s missing.”

“Yeah, how dare he get assigned to Skate Canada,” Yuri says, his lips curling intoa smile. “And the Cup of China? I swear if he doesn’t make it to the Final this season I’ll have to kidnap him.”

Kenjirou laughs, and his hand moves down Yuri’s arm to drag him along. Yuri follows without protest.

Apparently only three rooms have been booked, Katsudon having planned to share with Kenjirou or something. Naturally, Victor is aghast and begs Yuuri to share with him instead. After a five-minute farce in which Katsudon pretends he _doesn’t_ want to share a room with Victor and Victor pretends that he _really_ thinks Kenjirou having his own room will somehow improve his skating, the four are finally able to claim their rooms. Yuri’s room is right next to Kenjirou’s, but Victor and Katsudon’s double room is slightly farther down the hall. This suits Yuri just fine. He’s roomed adjacent to Victor so many times that he knows what he’s missing. At worst, he’d get a glimpse (or, god help him, an _earful_ ) of some unsuspecting stranger on their way to have the world’s most pathetic one-night stand; at best, Victor would stay up too late with the TV on and Yuri would be torn between ignoring it or going over to tell his coach to go the fuck to bed. Whatever Victor pulls this time is Katsudon’s problem.

(But then, Victor is different now. He wouldn’t even want to have sex with anyone but Katsudon anymore, Yuri assumes. And if Victor wanted to stay up all night with the TV turned to some awful infomercial station, Katsudon… would probably have no problem staying up too, given his propensity for overworking himself into the night… and they could… cuddle. Or have a midlife crisis together. Or something. Whatever it is, Katsudon provides Victor with _something_ that Yuri can’t give.)

The first thing Yuri does when he gets inside is throw his luggage on the hotel bed. He unpacks just enough so that he can grab his essentials and run out the door if he has to.

The second thing he does is invite himself to Kenjirou’s room.

“Of course you can come in,” Kenjirou says with a grin. “You want some water or something?”

“No,” Yuri replies, making a beeline for Kenjirou’s bed. He sits at the foot, his legs dangling off the edge. What he wants is to enjoy himself for half a second before he has to go let the press and his fans swarm him.

(Why, oh _why,_ he wonders, can’t he have sweet fangirls like Kenjirou? His fanclub praises how kind and sensitive he is! The Yuri’s Angels never compliment Yuri’s personality! To be fair, Kenjirou has some kind of sixth sense with the ladies. Yuri doesn’t understand how he does it. Yuri had growled _one time_ at a fan because _she was annoying him,_ and all of a sudden he’d started getting requests to roar like a “sexy tiger.” Where had he gone wrong?)

“Want to stir up some internet drama?” Kenjirou asks, biting his lip as he looks at his phone.

“Yes…?” Yuri says hesitantly. One of his favorite activities is yelling on the internet, but Kenjirou looks suspiciously amused by whatever he’s reading..

“Oh, good. Because JJ just posted a selfie from the lobby with a caption suggesting you’re not showing your face because you’re scared of him,” Kenjirou says, showing Yuri the picture on his screen.

“That asshole!” Yuri shouts, pulling out his own phone. “I let him taste _my_ pirozhki and this is how he repays me?” 

He’s about to fire off several all-caps tweets when he pauses and reconsiders.

“Hey, Kenjirou, come take a picture with me,” he says. Kenjirou moves closer, and Yuri’s dragging him forward before he even thinks about.

“Uh… Are you sure you want us to sit like this in the picture?” Kenjirou asks from his position… in… Yuri’s lap, basically. Oh.

It’s not like it’s uncomfortable. Kenjirou is shorter than Yuri is, and he’s not particularly heavy. They could probably stay like this for a while if Yuri just moved his hands…

“No, uh, the lighting would be better by the window,” Yuri says quickly, a blush rising to his face. Kenjirou hops off of him, and they both move to stand in front of the window.

“Kenjirou, stop grinning. We have to look cool,” Yuri insists, twisting his mouth into a smirk.

“I’m not going to make that expression, Yurio,” Kenjirou says with a laugh. “But, okay, how about this?”

He folds his arms around his chest and tilts his head slightly, trying to keep his mouth in a straight line.

Yurio snorts, but he nods his head.

“Yeah, that will work,” he says as he snaps his newest Instagram photo.

“Looks like we beat JJ to our rooms! I’ll be beating him at the competition, too,” he reads off as he types the caption, finishing it off with “#skateamerica” and, for good measure, “#alwaysfirst”

“That’ll give them something to talk about,” Kenjirou says. He laughs, and Yuri’s heart picks up at the sound.

Yuri sighs contentedly and sits back on the bed. There’s so much he could say right now. To Kenjirou, about Kenjirou, whatever. But even Yuri doesn’t understand the emotions he’s feeling, so he doesn’t try to speak.

He’s just grateful that Kenjirou is there for him.


	15. Chapter 15

When Yuuri wakes up on the morning of Yurio’s short program, Victor is curled up next to him, his eyes closed and his face relaxed into an expression of peace.

It’s so different from the last time they’d shared a bed. For one, Victor had woken first then, and when Yuuri had finally stirred, he was right there, pressing a cup of coffee into his hands like it was urgent. Yuuri hadn’t had the opportunity to see him this way, so soft and gentle.

(Secondly, last time they had both been sore and naked—half-naked, in Victor’s case, because he’d only bothered to put on pants and not a shirt. It’s not as though Yuuri doesn’t want to wake up like that again, but he didn’t want to ask, and Victor hadn’t said anything, either. Where do they stand on this issue? Yuuri is too afraid to look for the answer.)

Yuuri can’t resist the urge to run a hand through Victor’s hair. It’s smooth, not a hair out of place despite the way Victor had tossed and turned around in his own bed for hours (it was only at one in the morning, when Yuuri had realized that neither of them was getting any sleep, that he suggested they try sleeping together. Victor had then fallen asleep within 15 minutes of cuddling, and Yuuri had remembered with a twinge of guilt how he had completely barred Victor from going anywhere near his room. Perhaps when they go back, if Victor wants, if sleeping together really helps, then Yuuri can finally let him in.)

Yuuri gets three strokes in before Victor’s eyes begin to flutter open, and he hastily removes his hand. Victor smiles immediately, his eyes warm from the second they open, and Yuuri wonders why he ever thought sleeping alone was a good idea.

“Did you sleep well?” Victor murmurs as he shifts into a sitting position.

“I, uh… I did, yeah,” Yuuri says, surprisingly not having to lie. He had fallen asleep just a few minutes after Victor had, soothed by the sound of his rhythmic breathing. “Did you?”

“It was the best sleep of my life,” Victor replies, his voice as soft as his smile.

“Ah, good,” Yuuri says, ducking his head to conceal a blush. “Yurio wouldn’t like it if we showed up to the rink looking haggard.”

“Oh, Yuuri, that’s what the makeup is for!” Victor says, his laugh sounding just a little too forced. Yuuri’s smile flatlines at the image of a sleepless Victor going out with so much makeup that nobody can see the exhaustion in his face. (It’s not like Yuuri himself hasn’t done exactly the same thing millions of times, but it’s so much worse when he imagines Victor doing it. _Victor_ deserves so much better.)

“Will you do mine for me?” he asks quickly, before he can start thinking too much. “Uh, just because you’re better at it, I mean. Um, I don’t usually wear it that much, but for the cameras, you understand, uh—“

Victor’s hand comes to cup Yuuri’s face.

“Of course,” Victor says. “I’m a master when it comes to makeup.”

And he really is. Yuuri’s face doesn’t feel sticky or dirty like it usually does when he’s responsible for his own makeup. He actually looks somewhat presentable (even if Victor makes a disapproving note at his choice of suit, which Yuuri thinks is awfully unfair considering that Victor is the one who insisted he wear a suit in the first place), and he even manages to put on a pretty convincing smile in front of the mirror.

“Now we’re both flawless,” Victor says, grinning as he puts the final touches on his own makeup.

_’But you always look flawless,’_ Yuuri thinks. Even when Victor has katsudon hanging from his face, he still manages to look like an angel. But Yuuri doesn’t think this is the kind of thing he needs to say out loud, so he holds his tongue.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Victor continues, pulling out a container of lip balm. “We can’t have our lips going dry!”

The way Victor drags his finger so slowly, so sensually across his lips makes Yuuri’s heart thunder in his chest. If Victor doesn’t cut it out, Yuuri’s afraid he’s going to sweat off all of his makeup.

“Your turn!” Victor says cheerfully, but Yuuri swears it looks like he’s smirking. “Come here, Yuuri.”

Yuuri steps forward hesitantly, and Victor draws him closer. Their chests press against each other, which certainly does nothing to help Yuuri’s heart palpitations, and Victor tilts his head up, his eyes glinting with some emotion as they meet Yuuri’s own.

Victor leans down.

He dips his finger back into the balm. 

“Beautiful,” Victor breathes as he drags the finger (that had been on his own lips just moments before!) across Yuuri’s lips.

“Ah…” Yuuri mumbles. Victor’s eyes are still gleaming; Yuuri is sure his own must be blown wide in shock. “For… For a second I thought… you were going to kiss me?” he says, letting out a nervous laugh.

But Victor doesn’t laugh it off.

“Haven’t you heard of an indirect kiss?” he asks, tapping his finger against his lips. “If I kissed you now, we’d get powder on each other.” There’s a strange lift to his voice, like he’s caught halfway between saying it seriously and making a joke.

Yuuri bites his lip (the lip balm tastes ever-so-slightly sweet, he notes). Maybe it’s because Victor looks so nervous, but he feels just a little bolder.

‘Maybe you should remember to kiss me first, next time,” he manages to say, right before his tiny bubble of confidence bursts and he regrets everything.

The tension is Victor’s body melts away, and he smiles.

“I will, then,” he says like it’s a promise. 

They’re late when they finally meet up with Yurio and Kenjirou, and Yurio is not pleased.

“I don’t know what you were doing and I don’t want to know,” Yurio says harshly when Yuuri tries to apologize. “Just get your head screwed on right because I’m expecting some quality fucking critiques from you, Katsudon.”

“Ah… Yeah,” Yuuri agrees. In truth, he never feels adequately capable of judging Yurio at all. It’s even worse than judging Kenjirou, because at least Kenjirou, for some reason, has always looked up to him. But Yurio wouldn’t have grown up idolizing him, probably had never even heard his name until Yuuri’s miserable failure in Sochi. Without any idealism to sugarcoat his view, Yurio understands Yuuri’s terrible flaws as both a skater and a coach. 

And yet, Yurio follows his advice. It’s a little flattering that he still manages to see _something_ in Yuuri worth his time. Yurio is not the kind of person who likes to waste his time, after all.

But still, it’s hard to criticize Yurio, especially when his technique is so sharp and practiced.

It’s too practiced. It doesn’t fit with his theme at all. Overcoming weakness? There’s not a hint of vulnerability in him. And it’s hard to watch a renowned gold medalist skate about becoming better. Even his defeats are coated in silver and bronze. The way he’s skating now is just an insult, practically calling his _competiton_ weak.

He tells this to Victor in a hushed whisper. Victor nods along, his eyes shifting from Yurio’s form to Yuuri’s for just long enough to assure Yuuri that he’s listening.

And Yuuri doesn’t realize that this is a mistake until Victor is blabbering in the kiss-and-cry to an already annoyed-looking Yurio. The skater’s face seems to grow more and more irritated with every word.

“—and even Yuuri thinks you’re doing it wrong! Is Yuuri even helping you, Yura? If you’re going to keep skating like this, maybe we should go back to Russia. It was my fault for bringing you to Japan, but I really thought—“

The scores come in, placing Yurio in second place, just behind a young Spanish skater. But Yuuri can hardly focus on that with the powerful ringing in his ears throwing him off.

Yurio stands up, the look of hurt in his eyes matching Yuuri’s own feelings. He hisses something in Russian and begins to walk away towards the exit, his hands clenched.

Victor turns to Yuuri, then, his eyes widening. 

“That’s not what I meant, Yuuri, I—“

Yuuri’s eyes burn, but there’s so many people, he just can’t cry.

“I was wondering if you wanted to leave,” he says as quietly as he can. The last thing he needs is for some nosy reporter to get wind of Victor Nikiforov and his choreographer friend having a problem.

“I don’t!” Victor shouts, though he quiets when Yuuri shushes him.

“I _know,_ Yuuri grounds out through gritted teeth. “That doesn’t stop me from thinking it. It’s hard enough knowing that Yurio is relying on me; I don’t want to disappoint you, too! Don’t you have any faith in your student, Victor? Don’t you have any faith in my ability?”

“Of course I do,” Victor says gently, keeping his voice at a reasonable volume this time. “I’m just worried about him, Yuuri. And you— You’re amazing, but—“

“Victor,” Yuuri says, cutting the other man off again. “You don’t need to say anything, just believe in us, okay?” He leans forward, taking Victor’s hands into his own. “ _Stay close to me,_ Victor. _Don’t go._ ”

Yurio had once told him that “Stay Close to Me” was Victor’s favorite program. Yuuri just hopes he remembers how the English lyrics go.

_’I’m afraid of losing you,’_ he thinks. Never have the lines of the aria been more applicable to him than now, when he actually has the person he wants to hold onto in his fragile grasp.

Victor inhales sharply, recognition flashing in his eyes. Silently, he nods.

Yuuri lets out a shaky sigh.

“I need to talk to Yurio,” he says. “Victor, can you go find Kenjirou? He’s probably wondering where we are.”

“And I’m the last person Yurio wants to see right now, I’m assuming,” Victor says, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I get it. I’ll look for Kenjirou.”

Yuuri nods, and they part ways. He’s considering texting Yurio to see if he responds, but he doesn’t have to, because the Russian skater is the one who finds _him._

“Well, you look less like shit than I expected you to,” Yurio says, yanking him into an empty corridor.

Yuuri is surprised, because he definitely feels like shit. He’s angry and hurt, and while tears are no longer threatening to spill out, he still feels like he could go for a good cathartic cry if only he didn’t need to talk to Yurio.

“You know the bastard is wrong, don’t you?” Yurio continues, crossing his arms. “You _are_ helping me. Even the online commentators have noticed the shift in my style this season. It’s because of you, Katsudon, and fuck Victor for saying otherwise.”

“He was being stupid,” Yuuri agrees with a thin smile. “But you should have seen his face when he thought I was going to cry. That expression was priceless.”

Yurio snickers.

“Yeah, I bet. It’s not often that he actually has to deal with the consequences of his stupid actions,” Yurio says. 

“So we agree that we’re ignoring Victor’s bad suggestion,” Yuuri says, his lips twitching with amusement.

“Obviously,” Yurio says, and he offers Yuuri one of his rarest smiles, one that makes his entire face look softer and kinder.

And something shifts between them then. For the first time, Yuuri feels like he might understand Yurio.

“I’ll show him just how wrong he is during the free skate,” Yurio continues, his voice growing harder. “I am not Victor’s copy, and you are not some nobody choreographer. I will _prove_ it.”

“Ah,” Yuuri says. “Yurio…”

“What’s that look for, Katsudon?” Yurio asks warily.

“I think you were right when you told me that I was letting other people make decisions for me instead of skating the way I wanted to,” Yuuri says, a twinge of regret tinting his voice. “But I think you’re doing the same thing. Your skating shouldn’t be about being different from Victor, or making me look like a good choreographer. You should be skating the way _you_ want to. That’s what’s going to really move the audience.”

Yurio is silent for a moment before he shakes his head in confusion.

“That… can’t be the problem…” he mutters. “I’ve always wanted to beat Victor.”

“And you have. You broke his short program record the first year of his retirement, and you broke his free skate record the year after. Nobody doubts your ability,” Yuuri says. “Don’t disrespect the other competitors by acting like Victor is the one you’re skating against. You still have a lot to improve on, and you can. But do it for yourself.”

“I never thought I’d hear this coming from you,” Yurio says, his voice flat. “But fuck, you might have a point.”

Yuuri smiles.

“So can I expect to see something inspiring tomorrow?” he asks.

“Hell yeah,” Yurio agrees with a smirk.

And so they make their way to join Victor and Kenjirou, though it’s obvious that Yurio isn’t in the mood to talk to Victor.

For Yuuri, though, forgiveness is much easier. Hadn’t he already known that Victor’s mouth often runs away from him? The rude bluntness is not exactly Yuuri’s favorite thing about Victor, but he knows that it stems from obliviousness and not cruelty.

Still, Victor is visibly uneasy for the rest of the day, even when they return to their room that night. But it isn’t until they’re both getting ready for bed that Yuuri does anything about it. The sight of Victor looking at his own bed like it’s a prison is enough to make Yuuri’s heart ache. He doesn’t want Victor to sleep alone. _He_ doesn’t want to sleep alone.

“Aren’t you going to sleep next to me?” Yuuri asks, nudging his pillows invitingly.

Victor spends several seconds looking at Yuuri in surprise before he crawls in beside him.

But Victor’s body is still tense, and Yuuri counts the minutes to see if he’ll say anything. When it becomes apparent that he isn’t going to, Yuuri reaches out, pushing his fingers into the top of Victor’s head.

For a moment, Victor remains silent, but then he heaves a sigh, and the rest of his tension seems to melt away.

“I’m going bald, aren’t I?” he asks in a pitiful whimper.

Yuuri can’t suppress a few giggles, which causes Victor’s lips to twist into a pout.

“You’re fine.” Yuuri says softly when his laughter subsides. He runs his fingers through the rest of Victor’s hair before removing his hand, letting it rest on the sheets in the space between them.

Hesitantly, Victor puts his hand over Yuuri’s. Yuuri smiles.

“Goodnight, Victor,” he whispers.

“Goodnight, Yuuri,” Victor whispers back.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More artistic liberties! Why would Yuuri be asked to skate at the Rostelecom gala? It's important to the plot!

Victor has been wrong before, but it isn’t every day that he is slapped in the face with just _how_ wrong he is.

But Yura takes gold in Skate America after landing a quadruple axel (or, rather, mostly landing it—he had touched down on the ice, but he’d managed the full four-and-a-half rotations), and the look on his face (the look on Yuuri’s face, too) had been so thrilled… How could Victor have ever thought that Yura wasn’t getting anything out of Hasetsu, out of _Yuuri?_

The victory seems to bring Yura and Yuuri closer together, too. Victor is happy, really, except for the fact that they’ve apparently drawn some kind of secret pact together and now they refuse to let Victor watch them on the ice.

“Don’t worry about it. You and Kenjirou need to focus on his programs, anyway,” Yuuri tells him.

Yura just smirks at him (which Victor supposes is nicer than being told to fuck himself—Yuuri really is a good influence on him)

At least Kenjirou understands his pain.

“Yurio says _I_ can’t watch him practice anymore, either,” he complains. 

“It’s so sad,” Victor agrees. “How can they deprive us like this?”

“I bet he’s secretly doing quintuples or something,” Kenjirou continues. “Oh no, _can_ he do quintuples? Victor, you’d tell me if he could, right?”

Victor chuckles.

“No, not that I’ve ever seen. In fact, he’s never actually managed the quad axel cleanly,” Victor says, frowning. “He probably doesn’t want us watching him practice a jump he’s so weak at. He hates it when people see him mess up. That’s why I’m surprised he went for it in competition.”

“It was incredible, though!” Kenjirou says, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Victor, I have to get the quad flip down perfectly for sure! I’m not going to let him leave me in the dust like this! We have to crack down on our practice right now!”

And between Kenjirou’s enthusiasm and Victor’s expertise, they do manage to get the quad flip to competitive level. Kenjirou snags gold by a thin margin at the NHK Trophy, and critics praise him for his execution of Victor’s challenging choreography.

Really, he thinks, there’s nothing quite like sitting in the kiss-and-cry and hearing Kenjirou actually thank him, his voice thick with genuine emotion, as if it had truly been Victor’s success, too. One of Kenjirou’s arms wraps Victor into a side hug; his other arm rests beneath Yuuri’s supportive hand. 

For the first time, Victor feels like a proper coach.

With their first competitions now behind them, Kenjirou and Yura both seem to relax slightly, though neither turn down the intensity of their rivalry. They look like they’re having fun.

But then one morning the four of them sit down for breakfast one morning, and Victor gets a real shock.

“I have… some news…” Yuuri says hesitantly, trying to avoid looking into anyone’s eyes by staring deeply into the depths of his cup of coffee. 

“Say it like you’re excited about it, Katsudon! You were fucking excited when you told me,” Yura insists, glaring.

Yuuri takes a deep breath and raises his head. His eyes seem to bore directly into Victor.

Victor smiles encouragingly.

“I’ve been asked to do an exhibition at the Rostelecom Cup,” Yuuri says. “And I’m going to do it.”

“Oh!” Victor exclaims. “Yuuri, this is great news! Do you have a program? Do you want me to make you a program? Do you have a costume? Music?” he asks, barely pausing to breathe.

“Uh… Actually, I had a program in mind…” Yuuri says hesitantly. “But… I needed to ask you first…”

“Yes?” Victor says coaxingly. It’s also the answer to whatever Yuuri is going to ask of him, because Victor has already decided that he will do everything in his power to make sure Yuuri’s performance goes perfectly.

“I want to skate to “On Love: Eros,” Yuuri says with a sudden intensity that knocks the breath right out of Victor.

That program… is not one Victor is particularly fond of. It was supposedly about sexual love, but it had quickly become about Victor’s pain at being abandoned and, most importantly, his desperation for Yuuri to come back to him. But his original choreography no longer speaks for his feelngs.

And yet, if Yuuri were to skate it, it would immediately gain new meaning, wouldn’t it? 

“It’s yours,” Victor says. Because really, every program Victor had skated that season had always belonged to Yuuri. Victor had offered his heart up on a golden platter, and though it had taken five years for Yuuri to accept it, it’s no longer possible for Victor to take it back. “It’s going to take some adjustments, though,” he continues, already imagining a new ending where the playboy and the beautiful woman fall passionately into each other’s arms, equal partners at last.

“Oh, yeah, I can’t do any of those quads,” Yuuri says, laughing lightly. “But you really focused on the step sequences with that one. I remember how surprised I was when I first saw it! It looked like something out of your Junior days, before you started focusing on jumps,” he says excitedly.

Victor almost wants to scream that Yuuri really ought to recognize his own step sequences—Victor had spent a lot of time studying Yuuri’s skating in order to incorporate his style into the program, thank you very much—but then again, Yuuri’s skating style was rather obviously inspired by Victor himself, so he supposes it’s an easy enough mistake to make.

Perhaps Yuuri will understand when he skates it.

“We’ll work on it together,” Victor says before any of his frustrations can come out. “We can pretend I’m your coach.”

His lips quirk up into a teasing smile, but Yuuri doesn’t respond to the joke. At least he doesn’t look put out by it. He just smiles sincerely and nods. 

“Thank you, Victor,” he says. “I don’t want to take away too much time from Yurio and Kenjirou, though. I, uh, already know most of the choreography. I’ve… skated it before.”

“You have?” Victor asks in surprise. “But I’ve never seen it?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“I just… For practice, sometimes I skate my old routines, your old routines… Just to stay in form, you know? It’s not very precise. I’ll have to actually practice if I’m going to skate in front of people, but…”

The thought of Yuuri skating to _any_ of Victor’s programs makes Victor feel warm inside, but to do Eros… The heat pooling inside him is scalding.

“Has anyone else seen you skate it? Eros, I mean?” he asks, swallowing thickly.

“No,” Yuuri says. “I never would have had the courage to skate something… like _this_ in front of anyone before. But it’s different now that I’ve met you. I know love and I’m stronger for it, and I want to show the entire world how I feel about you, Victor.”

Victor’s breath hitches, and he has pause before he can speak. Yuuri wants to show the world how he feels about him… with a song about passionate, sexual love. 

The Victor from five years ago would have died of happiness if he’d known this would happen. Victor thinks he might die of happiness now, too.

“Show me first,” Victor says breathily. “Let me see you before anyone else.”

Yuuri nods, and his eyes burn with a fiery determination that makes Victor’s smile sharpen.

The clanging sound of a bowl hitting the table interrupts them, and Victor turns his gaze to Yura, who is beginning to stand with a scowl.

“Forgive me if I _don’t_ stick around to watch you,” he says sarcastically. “I support you, Katsudon, but there’s no way in hell I can stomach this for hours at a time.”

“You and Yuuri already have your private ice time,” Victor says cheekily. “Now it’s my turn.”

So they settle into a new routine. Victor and Kenjirou do most of their practice in the morning, Yuuri and Yura do theirs in the afternoon, and Yuuri and Victor work on Eros into the night.

And Victor is more than happy that Yura and Kenjirou don’t join him and Yuuri. The first time he watches Yuuri skate his Eros program, he’s so overwhelmed with love and desire that he tackles Yuuri to the ice in a fierce kiss. Yura would not have appreciated seeing that, and Victor would not have appreciated having to stop.

But Victor really does make an effort to help Yuuri, although not all of his suggestions. Yuuri agrees that the story needs to change, but he’s resistant to the idea of skating the role of the playboy (“There’s no way I could be a convincing playboy, Victor,” he says uneasily, and Victor is rendered speechless in disbelief). They also remove all of the quads, reducing them to triples (and Victor is just the slightest bit jealous of Yuuri’s ability to still land those triples—he could probably land those quads if he tried, too; after all, he’s only a year older than Victor had been when he skated it).

And though Victor had been joking when he’d spoken of pretending to be Yuuri’s coach, he can’t help but imagine it.

“Yuuri,” he says softly one day as they’re finishing up one night. “Do you ever think about what would have happened if I’d actually been your coach?” Victor asks

Victor isn’t even really looking at him, not at his face, at least, because he’s so absorbed in untying Yuuri’s skates for him. He does, however, notice the way Yuuri stiffens beneath his fingertips.

Damn. Why doesn’t Yuuri want to talk about Sochi? True, Victor had agreed to put it behind them, but that was when he still thought that they were going to have one single night together. But now, oh, he’s too far gone; he’s Yuuri’s forever. And Yuuri is skating a love song, a lust song, just to show the world how he feels about Victor, so Victor _knows_ his feelings are no longer unrequited. 

So _why_ won’t accept Victor’s feelings from their first banquet together? Even if it hadn’t meant anything to Yuuri back then, it had to _Victor,_ and it hurts for Yuuri to reject it entirely.

But then Yuuri’s fingers stretch tenderly over his own (he’s been clutching Yuuri’s skate, he finally realizes), and Victor looks up to see Yuuri looking much sadder than he’d expected.

“Victor, I had recurring dreams of that happening all throughout my teens and into my twenties,” Yuuri says, his voice sounding like it could break at any moment. “I imagined that you’d see me, that you’d decide you liked my skating, and then you’d train me up until I was as good as you. Even when I was an established skater, I still hoped… I don’t know if it was more about winning, or just being close to you… but I think it was more of the latter.”

“Oh,” Victor murmurs softly. Yuuri’s voice is so filled with longing that Victor almost forgets his own pain. “I should have done it,” he whispers, pulling himself up on the bench so he can embrace Yuuri better.

“What?” Yuuri asks, frowning in confusion. “You think you should have coached me? Why would you have? We were never close back when I was still competing.”

“I would have done it, though,” Victor insists. “I would have done it because you asked me to. God, Yuuri, I think I would have done _anything_ you asked me to. Even though it was only our first meeting, you were already so important to me. Nobody had ever made me feel like I did when I was with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuuri asks, alarmed. He pushes Victor off of him, and Victor tries to pretend that the loss of contact doesn’t hurt him. “Our first meeting? At Marseille? But we didn’t talk about… Victor, you aren’t making sense!”

“Will you stop pretending that we never met before Marseille?” Victor snaps, the ache in his chest finally overwhelming him. “I’m sorry that I can’t forget Sochi! It changed my life, okay? _You_ changed my life!” Victor shouts.

“I didn’t even talk to you in Sochi!” Yuuri shouts before he has to pause to choke back a sob. “Victor… How can you say that I changed your life when all I did was fail at everything? I couldn’t even say anything to you at the banquet, even though I wanted to. I just drank champagne in a corner all night until I blacked out… Please don’t tell me that seeing me pass out was important to you.”

If Victor had been drinking anything, he’s sure he would have done a spit-take. As it is, he sort of wishes he had a drink, because his mouth is getting rather dry from hanging open.

“You—You really don’t remember?” he chokes out, all of his previous anger draining away and leaving him with nothing but a hollowness in his stomach. “Yuuri, you did a _lot_ between the champagne and the passing out…”

“What do you mean by _that?_ ” Yuuri asks worriedly. “Oh, god, Victor, did I do something embarrassing? I know what I’m like when I’m drunk…” he says, sounding more and more miserable by the second. 

Yuuri seems to crumple in on himself, and Victor instinctively reaches out before remembering that oh, right, Yuuri had just pushed him away. His hand falls uselessly into his lap.

“Do you want to see the pictures?” he asks feebly.

Yuuri just stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking. 

“It was hard to get most of them. I couldn’t take very many since I was, you know, busy. With you,” Victor babbles as he ignores his own warning to himself and opens his “DO NOT OPEN” folder on his phone. “Chris was nice and sent me all of his pictures on his own. Yura didn’t want to send me his pictures, though. He only did it after I choreographed a program for his senior debut. I think he thought he was bribing me, but it’s not like I had anything better to do anyway. I would have made him that program regardless. He was only 16, you know? He was 15 at the Sochi Final. A little young for the champagne they were serving, I guess, but Yura doesn’t care that much for alcohol, anyway.”

At this point, he’s just rambling to fill space. Yuuri doesn’t say anything as he swipes through the various photos Victor has collected before finally ending on the video of him asking Victor to be his coach.

“I asked you to come to visit the onsen,” Yuuri says numbly.

“Is that what you said?” Victor asks regretfully. “If I’d known, I would have been there by January.”

“I asked you to be my coach,” Yuuri says in the same numb tone.

“I just told you I would have done it,” Victor says.

“I… I grinded on you… a _lot,_ ” Yuuri says, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“And obviously I was not complaining about it,” Victor says, offering Yuuri a small smile. Yuuri returns it, only he just looks pained. Victor wonders if that’s how his own smile had looked, too.

“Victor… You… You thought I remembered all of this,” Yuuri says, the realization just now occurring to him.

“I assumed it was in the back of your mind,” Victor admits. “I have to say that it hurt when you dropped all contact with me. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve it. You showed me the light, Yuuri, only to take it away with you when you left. And it was… hard to bear. But then I met you in Marseille, and you gave me an explanation and an apology, which was all I wanted, but more importantly, you still had that light with you. It was a dream come true for me, Yuuri. I didn’t mind giving us a fresh start, really I didn’t.”

Yuuri gasps, and Victor isn’t sure why until Yuuri reaches out to brush his hair out of his face.

“You’re crying,” he whispers.

“Am I?” Victor asks. He isn’t used to crying. The last time he had cried had been for Makkachin. Before that, Yuuri. Before that… perhaps he had shed a tear when he had been injured on the ice? He can’t remember.

“You are,” Yuuri informs him. Tears well in his own eyes, too. “I’m so sorry, Victor. For… For everything. For leaving you. For making you not talk about it. For forgetting everything…” Tears roll down his splotchy face, and Victor’s heart just aches worse.

“I’m not mad at you,” Victor says quietly. “I was before, but… Obviously, you didn’t forget me on purpose.”

It still hurts that one of the most important moments of Victor’s life simply does not exist in Yuuri’s memory, but there’s no reason for him to be angry. Regretful, yes, because they could have had so much, but the important thing is that he gets to be with Yuuri _now._

Yuuri draws him closer, pulling Victor into his embrace (Victor sighs in relief at the contact) and pressing his face into Victor’s shoulder.

Victor isn’t good at talking about emotions, and Yuuri isn’t good at speaking his mind. And yet, not all languages need words. Skating is one of them—Victor has always been able to express his feelings on the ice, and he knows Yuuri is just as capable—but touch is something that Victor is also fluent in. 

And as they sit there, caught in each other’s embrace, Victor hopes that Yuuri understands, too, that Victor’s hands in his hair offer not just forgiveness, but unconditional love.


	17. Chapter 17

Kenjirou is excited for the Rostelecom Cup. Not only is his quad flip looking better than ever, but he’ll get to compete directly against Yurio before the Final (which Kenjirou is very confident he’ll make this year after his first-place finish in the Cup of China). And Yuuri is going to skate at the gala, which Kenjirou can’t help but fanboy over just a little (he’s still Yuuri’s number one fan, after all!), even if he is skating to one of Victor’s old programs rather than a Yuuri Katsuki original. It’s kind of romantic, Kenjirou thinks.

Even Yurio is in high spirits, partly because of his skating progress (which Kenjirou is assuming must be going amazingly, considering that he’s gone from scowling after every practice to making friendly banter with Yuuri, teasing Kenjirou about the competition, and even _smiling_ at Victor when he asked how things were going) and partly because of the news that his grandpa will be able to make it to the Rostelecom Cup.

“I haven’t had a competition in Moscow for a few years now. I didn’t even have my gold medals back then,” Yurio says with a wistful smile, though his eyes gleam with determination. “I can’t wait for him to see how far I’ve come since then.”

For the entire week leading up to the Rostelecom Cup, all Yurio can talk about is how wonderful his grandpa is. Victor has met the man before and chimes in his enthusiastic agreement, but Kenjirou himself doesn’t know what to expect.

The second they arrive in Moscow, Yurio is pulling Kenjirou by the hand and heading outside (and behind them, Kenjirou can see Victor pulling Yuuri along in much the same manner). 

And then Kenjirou gets his first look at Nikolai Plisetsky. The man is just slightly shorter than Yurio, though the difference would not be as noticeable were it not for the hunch in his back. His face, lined with age, might be called severe were it not for the joyful smile that appears the second he lays his eyes on Yurio.

Yurio slips his hand out of Kenjirou’s in favor of running to his grandpa. His arms fly around the older man, though Yurio is obviously being careful around his back.

“Yurochka!” Nikolai exclaims happily, saying something in Russian as Yurio hugs him. Yurio replies back in Russian, and then Nikolai’s eyes sweep past him to regard Kenjirou and Yuuri.

“These are the nice Japanese boys you told me about?” he asks, to which Yurio nods with a blush. “Good to meet you. Yurochka tells me you are helping him with skating. That is good. It has been many years since I have had anything to teach him myself.”

“Yes, Yuuri and Kenjirou have taught us a lot,” Victor says, slinging an arm across Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Ah, Vitya. I had forgotten this trip to Japan was your idea,” Nikolai says, shaking his head fondly. “You left so suddenly. Yasha nearly had a heart attack. Do try to be more considerate of him in his old age, won’t you?”

“I think Yakov is used to it,” Victor says with a laugh, though he looks a bit sheepish. “I’ll buy him a drink to make up for it. He’s here with Mila for Rostelecom, right?”

“He is. Are you planning to meet up with him?” Nikolai asks.

“Yes, of course!” Victor says excitedly. “Yuuri, you’ll come with me, won’t you? We can have dinner together, just us coaches!”

“Ah… Are you sure about this Victor? Shouldn’t we, uh…?” Yuuri gestures vaguely between Yurio and Nikolai.

“Ugh, Katsudon, just let him go show off to Yakov,” Yurio groans. “Kenjirou and I will be more than fine without you.”

Which is how Kenjirou ends up dining with Yurio and his grandpa while Yuuri and Victor go off on their own. Somehow, it isn’t an awkward affair. Even though Yurio and his grandpa have a close relationship that Kenjirou isn’t part of, they don’t make him feel like an outsider. Nikolai, despite being more limited in his English than Yurio and Kenjirou, actively encourages the two skaters to talk about anything that happens to come up—Japan, traveling, their skating, etc. In return, he tells him stories of his own, and while Yurio has already heard most of them, it’s all new and fascinating for Kenjirou. It reminds him of his childhood, when he would eagerly question his parents about everything and then sit listening as they explained to him a world he had yet to experience for himself.

A pang of nostalgia pierces his heart. Though he’s always had his family’s support, ever since he moved to Hasetsu, he’s been limited in his ability to see them. They try to come to Nationals every year, at least, and he always takes a week in the off-season to go visit them, but it’s certainly not the same as living with them.

It occurs to him that Yurio is in a very similar situation to him, training away from his family, first in Saint Petersburg and now even farther away in Japan.

“Hey, Yurio?” Kenjirou asks when they’ve returned to the hotel. Yuuri and Victor haven’t returned yet, so he and Yurio are both in Yurio’s room, killing time on their phones while some random TV show they’d managed to find in English plays in the background.

“Yeah?” Yurio responds from his position on the bed, glancing up from his phone even as his fingers continue to type.

“Have you ever gotten homesick since you’ve been in Japan?” Kenjirou asks in genuine curiosity. “It never seemed like it, so I guess I never thought to ask, but when I met your grandpa… I don’t know. I think _I’m_ going to miss him when we leave,” he says, chuckling lightly.

Yurio’s hands still.

“No,” he says quickly, then frowns. “Not really, I mean.”

He sets his phone down, shifting into a sitting position.

“I lived with Dedushka when I was little, but I moved to Saint Petersburg soon enough. Dedushka is friends with Yakov. I was discovered early,” he says, smiling thinly. “I lived with Yakov for years, then I lived with Victor for a little while, and then I moved out on my own as soon as I was old enough. And of course, I’m in different cities all the time during the season, anyway. I haven’t got too attached to any one place.”

“Oh, I see,” Kenjirou says with a nod. “But… it’s like that saying, uh, ‘the home is where the heart is,’ right? It’s okay to be homesick for a person.”

Yurio snorts.

“If you’re trying to get me to say I miss Dedushka when I’m not in Moscow, then fine, you’ve got me,” Yurio admits. “But there’s no use being sad about it. Who wants to come home all heartbroken and covered in tears? Who wants to _see_ that? It’s better to focus on what you’re doing so you can come back with your head held high. I want to show Dedushka that I’m always improving even when I’m away from him, not that I’ve been wasting time feeling homesick.”

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Kenjirou says “I don’t normally feel homesick because I’m having too much fun skating to think about it, but…”

“But it’s hard to watch other people with their family and not think of your own,” Yurio finishes for him. “Fuck, Kenjirou, don’t get all upset right before a competition. Come here,” he says, gesturing toward the bed.

“Yurio, I’m not _upset,_ ” Kenjirou says, but he flops down on Yurio’s bed anyway.

“You won’t be after I beat you at…” He looks down at his phone, swiping across the screen a couple of times. “At whatever this fighting game is. It says it’s multiplayer, so hurry up and download it already,” he demands.

“A fighting game, huh? I’m not great at those. Yuuri is though!” Kenjirou says with a laugh as he swipes through his own phone’s app store.

“Remind me to crush him later,” Yurio says seriously.

After three rounds of the fighting game (which Yurio wins) and four rounds of a puzzle game (which Kenjirou wins), they’re both starting to get tired. 

“I should… probably go back to my room…” Kenjirou murmurs tiredly, resting his head against the foot of the bed. “You think Yuuri and Victor are gonna make it back okay?”

“Victor might be drunk. He always drinks a lot with Yakov,” Yurio grumbles. “Katsudon’s responsible, though. They’ll be fine.”

“Yuuri’s not _that_ responsible,” Kenjirou replies with his eyes closed. “But yeah, he hates embarrassing himself, so he’ll get them back soon. Before midnight, probably.”

“Dumbass coaches,” Yurio drawls, the insult weakened by his sleepy tone.

“Mm,” Kenjirou hums in agreement. He rolls over in a halfhearted attempt to get up, but he doesn’t even open his eyes. “Don’t wanna move,” he whines, pressing his head to the blanket.

“Then don’t,” Yurio says, covering his eyes with his arm. “Just don’t… fucking kick me, or whatever.”

“Oh…” Kenjirou murmurs. “Thanks…”

And so he quickly drifts off to sleep, images of grandfathers and gold medals dancing around in his mind.


	18. Chapter 18

When Yuri wakes up, he first notices two things: one, the overhead light is on and it’s _too damn bright,_ and two, he’s just centimeters away from falling off the bed.

He sits up and is about to say some choice curses when he realizes that Kenjirou is still asleep right beside him. He silences himself for the moment.

He leans over to prod the other man awake, but he pauses, unable to stop himself from observing Kenjirou in his sleep.

It isn’t a pretty sight. Kenjirou’s hair is a mess, the tangled strands flying in all directions, and there’s a line of drool dried up on one side of chin.

Yuri likes to think of himself as being blessed with exceptional taste, and if this were anyone else, his face would twist with disgust and he would certainly kick the unfortunate person out of his bed. But somehow, despite the unpicturesque image a sleeping Kenjirou presents, all Yuri feels is a warm fondness in his chest.

Kenjirou shifts around in his sleep, and Yuri’s lips twitch upward. Apparently Kenjirou can’t stay still even in his slumber. It’s pretty cute.

Wait.

Shit.

It _is_ pretty cute, but _only_ because it’s Kenjirou doing it. (He tries to imagine Victor in this position, and he shudders with horror.)

He likes Kenjirou so much. He _likes_ Kenjirou so much.

What is he supposed to do know? He doesn’t know how to be romantic! The only person he’s ever seriously dated is Beka, but that was three years ago, and it was mainly fueled by Yuri’s hormones. It didn’t feel like… this.

Obviously, Kenjirou is attractive with his golden hair (and the red streak looks pretty cool, too), and his brown eyes like firewood that’s meant to blaze (naturally—all good skaters have fire in their eyes), and his lithe body that gives him a natural grace on the ice. No, his attractiveness was never in question. But Yuri’s a damn looker himself, and he’s constantly surrounded with other attractive people. Hell, he’s fucking lived with Victor, one of the most unreasonably beautiful people on the planet. (Oh, sure, Yuri wants to go back in time and kick his 10-year old self for ever having a crush on the idiot, but without a doubt it’s Victor’s behavior, not his looks, that makes Yuri want to gag sometimes.)

Basically, Yuri is no longer fazed by pretty faces.

He is, evidently, now fazed by Kenjirou’s face, which is absolutely not pretty right at the moment, but certainly will be once he wakes up and gets ready for the day.

Yuri has no idea what to do with this new information, but he resolves to talk to Beka about it later. Beka isn’t exactly a master of emotional situations, but there are certain things that you can only talk about with longtime friends, and Yuri’s pretty sure that this is one of them.

But for now, he has to worry about the competition (he has had to worry about competitions for his whole life, and it’s probably the reason that he and Otabek never worked out romantically. He tries not think about what this might mean for him and Kenjirou), so he pushes the morning’s revelations aside and finally gets out of the damn bed.

“Kenjirou, get up,” he says, shoving the other man with a bit more force than he’d intended.

Kenjirou’s eyes fly open, and he shoots up so quickly that he almost topples off the foot of the bed.

“Sorry,” Yuri mutters as warm feelings swim around in his heart. “Didn’t mean to startle you, but we don’t have all day.”

“That’s okay,” Kenjirou says with his usual sunny smile, though he’s still rubbing his eyes sleepily. “I didn’t mean to sleep here all night. I don’t suppose you ever heard from Yuuri and Victor?”

“No,” Yuri replies, tapping at his phone. “Oh, I guess Katsudon sent me a message at…” He squints at the screen. “Fucking 2:30 am, the hell? ‘Forgot to tell you we came back, sorry. Hope you’re sleeping.’ They’re lucky we’re not skating until tomorrow, or I’d kill them for fucking with us like that!”

“Well, I don’t think they’d have gone out at all if we were skating today,” Kenjirou says with a chuckle. “But I wonder what happened?”

What happened, as it turns out, is that Yakov had scared the pants off of Katsudon (though not literally, thank god) at the beginning of the night. Victor had bought Yakov several drinks in order to “loosen him up” so he could explain why Katsudon actually is not a horrible person and actually _is_ the love of Victor’s life, only the problem is that Victor drank every time Yakov did, and Yakov can drink Victor under the table, so in the end Katsudon was left to deal with Yakov, who was just tipsy enough to have loose lips but not nearly drunk enough to lose his wits or his suspicion of Katsudon, _and_ a very drunk Victor who discarded the majority of his clothing and started clinging to Katsudon. This, naturally, did nothing to convince Yakov that Katsudon wasn’t taking advantage of Victor, but apparently somehow, between Katsudon begging Yakov for help and Katsudon gently cooing at Victor like a lovesick fool while trying to put his clothes back on, Yakov started believing that Katsudon’s love for Victor might actually be genuine, and so together, Yakov and Katsudon got Victor back to the hotel. Then, Yakov told Katsudon that it was good Victor had someone else to worry about him and then immediately left Katsudon alone to take care of Victor-the-octopus.

“That’s the most revolting story I’ve ever heard and I don’t want to know any more,” Yuri insists even though he’s laughing.

“Imagine living it…” Katsudon says weakly, leaning into Victor’s shoulder like it’s going to give him strength.

“But everything worked out, Yuuri! Yakov loves you!” Victor says happily, drawing Katsudon closer to him.

Yuri reluctantly chimes in with assurance that Yakov’s words are about as warm as anything Yakov has ever said, and that, yes, that means he approves of Katsudon (not that Yakov could do anything about it if he didn’t—there’s no way he could separate Victor and Katsudon _now._ )

Yuri himself doesn’t actually see Yakov until the short program the next day. He and Mila are there to cheer for him, or so Mila claims. She gives him a one-armed hug, and Yuri’s just grateful that he’s too large for her to give him impromptu lifts anymore.

Yakov, of course, isn’t as overly affectionate. He gives Yuri an encouraging nod, then his eyes narrow.

“Katsuki is choreographing for you,” he says. It’s not a question, but Yuri can imagine what he wants to know. Will Yuri vouch for Katsudon? Duh.

“He’s fucking talented,” Yuri says. “His skating is still so… Whatever, you’ll see for yourself at the exhibition.”

“Yes,” Yakov agrees. “All of Russia is very curious about this man you’ve employed in favor of your own talent, or Vitya’s, for that matter.”

“I’m completely serious when I say he could have been better than Victor,” Yuri says confidently. “Don’t tell me you never thought so, back when they were both competing.”

“He was Celestino Cialdini’s star. Of course I believed he was a serious contender for gold,” Yakov admits. “It never took him anywhere, though.”

Yuri scowls.

“It’s because he’s stupid,” Yuri says. “If he’d had you for a coach, you would have talked it out of him.”

Yakov’s lips pull into a thin smile.

“High praise for both of us, coming from you,” he says amusedly. 

“Oh, shut up,” Yuri mutters. “I’m wasting my time hanging out with you. I have a competition to win.”

And Yuri does, in fact, end up taking gold at Rostelecom, although Kenjirou comes dangerously close, finishing just a half a point below him. Furthermore, Kenjirou has actually scored _higher_ in the short program, which is understandable considering how he and Victor had packed it with quads, including the flip—which Yuri isn’t ashamed to admit is getting really fucking good. If there’s one thing Victor knows how to teach, it’s the quad flip. 

Yuri’s quad flip is, of course, still better, but Kenjirou is picking it up quicker than Yuri did (perhaps because Yuri had hit his growth spurt while he was first learning it, or perhaps because Yuri was trying to prove he could do it without Victor’s help; either way, Yuri’s glad that Kenjirou isn’t going through the same mess that he did). 

Yuri likes to think that he would have still beaten Kenjirou without having to include the quad axel. He fucked up and underrotated it, anyway. At any rate, Yuri is not doing a quad axel just for the points. He really, really wants to be the first to land it in competition. He has for years, and he’s practiced, but he didn’t want to deal with the press coverage if he told anyone about it, definitely didn’t want to hear the fans if he didn’t get it perfect, and so he had never attempted to include it in his previous programs. Victor never pushed him to, either.

And it’s not like Katsudon is exactly pushing him to do it, either. It’s just… Katsudon obviously wants to see Yuri skate that way Yuri himself wants to. And if Katsudon ever tried to criticize him for skating something he hadn’t mastered, Yuri could easily counter that Katsudon’s entire skating career was filled with flubbed jumps (which Yuri is still furious about, because what the fuck, Katsudon would have been the best if it weren’t for that). But Katsudon doesn’t ever do that, anyway. He just stares at Yuri like he’s studying him, then makes suggestions—not orders, Katsudon never orders him around—on things that might help him improve. Sometimes the suggestions do help, and sometimes they don’t, but the point is that Katsudon knows Yuri can figure out what’s useful himself.

So, really, Yuri is pushing himself, just like he always has, but Katsudon is… standing beside him. Standing _beside_ him, but not in his way. 

And maybe that’s why Yuri feels the need to stand beside Katsudon, too. Yuuri Katsuki has real skill, and Yuri isn’t going to stand for the world to just forget about him.

“Hey, Katsudon,” Yuri says, his gold medal hanging around his neck and his arm hanging around Kenjirou’s shoulders. “You’re sharing the ice with us tomorrow. You’d better show everyone in Russia why we like you.”

Katsudon’s face flushes lightly, and he ducks his head down. Beside him, Victor squeezes his arm.

When he looks back up, there’s determination in his eyes.

“Right,” he says with a sharp nod. “This is important. This is my only chance to show Russia my love.”

Certainly, “On Love: Eros” is _not_ the program that _Yuri_ would choose to skate in front of thousands of strangers that really don’t need to know about his sex life, but if that’s what it takes to get Katsudon out there, then fine. Yuri supports it.

“Sure, whatever,” Yuri says much more casually than he feels. “Seduce their pants off or something.”

Victor’s eyes gleam. Oh, no.

“Do not,” Yuri hisses, “throw your pants onto the ice. I have to skate in that rink after him!”

“I would never,” Victor lies. “But if I _did,_ my Yuuri would bring them back for me, right?” he says, looking at Katsudon with false innocence.

Katsudon looks like he’s about to die, but he still says “yes.” Victor beams, and Katsudon’s lips pull upwards as if Victor’s own smile is calling to them.

That, Yuri supposes, is why the idiots are fucking perfect for each other.


	19. Chapter 19

When Yuuri wakes up, he feels alright for exactly five whole seconds before he remembers what he has to do that day and his insides immediately begin protesting.

“This was a terrible idea,” he moans miserably as Victor tries to drag him out of bed.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to do this,” he groans as Victor attempts to press a forkful of eggs to his mouth.

“Even you can’t make me look decent right now,” he insists as Victor does his makeup.

But though the anxiety that churns within him never really leaves, by the time Yuuri is supposed to skate, he finds that the burning determination inside him is louder.

Because every time he looks into Victor’s loving eyes, he’s reminded why he _wants_ to go out there and skate.

_’I am worthy of your love.’_

_’I am yours and you are mine.’_

_’Let Russia see who stole you from them.’_

Some thoughts aren’t made for Yuuri to say out loud. But through his skating, he can show everyone without speaking a word.

“What are you thinking about, Yuuri?” Victor whispers into his ear. “Your expression is very…”

“Very…?” Yuuri murmurs.

“Very… _eros,_ ” Victor continues breathily.

“Is that right?” Yuuri asks, fluttering his eyelashes in a way that makes Victor swallow thickly. Yuuri likes that he can do this to him, that he can capture Victor’s attention so fully and make him react. Yuuri had admired Victor from afar for so many years, but he only realized just how much he had always longed for Victor’s attention once he finally had it.

The Yuuri skating today isn’t the Yuuri of the past who gave up because he wasn’t good enough.

He may never be good enough for himself, but he’s good enough to impress Victor. And he’s good enough to prove it to everyone.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing hold of Victor’s tie. He tugs it closer, Victor following obligingly. “Don’t take your eyes off of me,” he says in a low voice, his tone a strange mixture of determination and desperation.

“I won’t,” Victor says seriously, and Yuuri believes him. Sometimes, like now, Victor looks at him like he’s the only one in the world. Yuuri thinks that, if he were still a competitor, one look like that from Victor could carry him to gold.

For now, it will carry him through the exhibition.

Though his heart pounds, it’s love, not fear, that is guiding him today. He waits for the first notes of the music to ring out, and then he skates.

The first time he had watched Victor skate “On Love: Eros,” Yuuri had been transfixed. (“It’s so hot I feel like I could get pregnant,” had fallen dazedly from his lips before Yuuri could think better of it. Kenjirou, only 17 back then, had been watching it with him, and Yuuri had immediately wanted to die when the boy had given him a questioning look.) 

But nobody had known, nobody could have guessed back then that Victor had been skating a specific story. But oh, Yuuri can see now, in every twist and turn, that the program had been calling Yuuri’s name.

It wasn’t possible for him to respond back then. He hadn’t _known_ that he needed to (but, then, even if he had, would he have had the courage to do anything? Yuuri doesn’t like to think about the answer). But now, in front of Russia, in front of the world, in front of _Victor,_ Yuuri is screaming back his answer.

The program has been modified so that there aren’t any quads. Yuuri had always been _terrible_ with jumps, and it’s not like this is a competition. He doesn’t need to worry about points or technical skills or anything but the performance.

It’s not a competition. It’s much more important than any competition he’s ever been to. To the world, Yuuri is just a dime-a-dozen skater who retired in disgrace. Why does he deserve Victor’s attention? Why does he deserve Yurio’s praise? Why does he deserve Kenjirou’s admiration?

Yuuri has been surrounded by love his whole life, but it was only with Victor’s influence that he was finally able to _understand_ it. Yuuri was never strong enough to do this on his own, but now…

Yuuri tries a jump he’s technically tried before, but has never mastered. He falls on the ice, but not before getting the full four rotations of the quad flip in. It doesn’t matter that he fell; there are no points for him to earn. He just hopes Victor understands what Yuuri is trying to say.

And it seems that Victor does get the message, because Yuuri doesn’t even make it off the ice before he’s being tackled to the ground, Victor’s lips passionately enveloping Yuuri’s own.

“Fuck, Katsudon, you weren’t supposed to show us up!” Yurio exclaims without malice once his own exhibition skate is over. “Who just ad-libs a quad flip?”

“Someone who can’t ad-lib a quad axel,” Yuuri replies drily.

Yurio falls silent for a second, his face flushing. “Point taken. But now everybody knows what you can do, so you’d better not try to hold back ever again, got it? Humility is sickening when it comes from you.”

“Yuuri, you’ve been holding out on me,” Kenjirou says with a pout. “I’m your biggest fan, but even I haven’t seen you skate like that before. Please tell me you’ll do more shows now? Your fanclub has been begging for years! And it’s absolutely exploding right now, just so you know.”

“Kenjirou, you’re still a member of my fanclub?” Yuuri asks in amusement, though he can’t help but blush as well.

“Yuuri, I’m still the _president_ of your fanclub,” Kenjirou says, grinning. “The job’s too easy because you hardly ever skate in public or give interviews that aren’t about me. C’mon, Yuuri, you’ll make me work harder, won’t you?”

“Ah, but you should be working harder on your own skating, Kenjirou,” Victor says, placing a hand on his chin as if in thought. “Hmm, I suppose I could always lend you a hand. I’m a bit of a fan of Yuuri, myself.”

“Shut up, dumbass. We all know you’ll just put a hundred emoji hearts on all of Katsudon’s pictures,” Yurio scoffs.

“Is there something wrong with that, Yura?” Victor asks, playfully narrowing his eyes. “What would you write, then?”

“Something that’s actually relevant to what he’s doing, duh!” Yurio retorts.

“Hey, wait!” Kenjirou interrupts. “Neither of you are ready for this responsibility! Do you think they let just anyone be president? You two aren’t even members; you can’t handle administrative functions yet!”

Yuuri can feel his face growing hotter and hotter as Victor, Yurio, and Kenjirou continue to discuss his _fanclub,_ of all things. And yet, despite the embarrassment, a pleasant feeling rises in his chest.

This is what happiness feels like.


	20. Chapter 20

This is what happiness feels like. It’s watching Yuuri blush every time someone praises his awe-inspiring “On Love: Eros” performance. It’s flying back to Hasetsu in coach because Yuuri and Kenjirou think first class is a waste of money, even though they’re four figure skating celebrities and Victor would gladly pay for everyone anyway. It’s getting back to Yu-topia and eating Hiroko’s katsudon as a victory celebration (“But you didn’t even skate,” Yura had complained when Victor got a bowl, too. “Don’t act like you won anything.” Victor had ignored him.) 

It’s looking around and realizing that this space that once belonged only to Yuuri has long since become _home_ to Victor.

Victor doesn’t think he has the words to express how he’s feeling. Not in English, not in French, not even in Russian, and certainly not in Japanese. How are you supposed to tell someone that they’ve drawn you in so completely that you could never get away again (not that you would ever want to)? 

“Yuuri is like a black hole,” he tries to explain, speaking to Yura privately

“What, you’re saying he sucks?” Yura says, wearing a smirk until he realizes how that statement could be interpreted. “Wait, ew. Don’t talk about your love life to me ever again you creep.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a double entendre!” Victor insists as Yura stalks out of the room with a huff. “It’s a good analogy, I think, because nobody can escape from a black hole. Oh, but they’re so dark, and Yuuri is my light. I could stick with the sun because it has a lot of gravity, but we’re really far away from the sun so I think that means the gravitational pull isn’t as strong as it could be, and Yuuri’s gravitational pull is _very_ strong… He has the maximum gravitational pull, Yura!”

“Oh my god, how can you know so many languages and still be this bad at metaphors?” Yura groans. “For fuck’s sake, calm down. You’re not 14. Katsudon knows you like-like him. God, literally everyone who has ever seen you two together knows that.”

At any rate, while he doesn’t care whether or Yura thinks he sounds smart, Victor is a little wary that his poetic musings could be taken the wrong way by Yuuri, who is the only one Victor actually wants to understand.

So he has to turn to the only language he trusts to get the job done, skating.

“Do a pair skate with me,” Victor says abruptly one night. He and Yuuri are just about to go to bed, and normally Victor wouldn’t spring something like this on Yuuri so late at night, but it’s the only way he can be sure that Yuuri will understand, the only way to make sure that Yuuri’s family or Kenjirou or Yura won’t get in the way of what Victor is actually trying to say.

“What?” Yuuri yelps, dropping himself onto the bed with a thud. It’s cute, and normally Victor would chuckle, but he refrains in order to show just how serious he is.

“Please, Yuuri,” Victor continues, sitting down beside the love of his life. “I skate at the gala for the Grand Prix Final every year. They always ask, and I’ve never turned them down. This year is no exception.”

He’s never felt good about it. He was sick of skating even before he retired, but now? It feels like a pity offering. Look at the poor, washed out champion. He doesn’t know how to do anything else with his life? Let’s invite him to our show, since he used to matter.

Realistically, Victor knows that he’s still an important figure, and he brings in a lot of money whenever he skates. This, unsurprisingly, does nothing to make him feel any better.

The worst part is that it’s all so boring, so _expected._ He isn’t sure when his desire to surprise the audience had turned into a self-imposed duty to please them, but he had long forgotten what it was like to feel joy on the ice until Yuuri had reignited something inside him.

Last year, Victor’s heart had just been stuttering back to life. His exhibition at the gala had been better than in previous years, because Victor had talked to Yuuri and felt _hope._ But that budding love was nothing compared to what he feels for Yuuri _now,_ and Victor wants to shout to the world that he has been reborn.

“I can’t begin to explain how being with you has changed me, Yuuri. I had lost something important, and I no longer had the strength to look for it. But you found me, and I realized how much I had been neglecting myself. I’m so much stronger when I’m with you. So please, will you join me on the ice?”

Victor is expecting Yuuri to look surprised, but he isn’t prepared to see tears glistening in his eyes. For a moment, he panics, trying to think of anything he’d said that could possibly be hurtful. But then Yuuri throws his arms around him, and Victor realizes that Yuuri isn’t actually upset at all. He’s smiling, and the tears are ones of happiness.

“D-Do you even know what you’re asking me?” Yuuri gasps out. “I’ve always wanted to skate on the same ice as you. To skate on the same ice _with_ you is… is even better. To hear you say those things… It’s… it’s like a dream…”

“A dream come true?” Victor suggests, pressing his lips into Yuuri’s hair.

“Yeah,” Yuuri breathes.

“It’s the same for me,” Victor murmurs. “You’re all of my dreams come true.”

Yuuri lets out a light laugh as he tilts his head up. It’s bliss when their lips meet, and Victor finds himself leaning back onto the bed, pulling Yuuri along with him so that their chests are pressed together as they deepen the kiss.

It’s not until a half hour later, when they’ve finished with their heavy petting session but are still lying comfortably in each other’s arms, that Yuuri speaks up again in a soft whisper.

“But Victor, we have less than two weeks to get ready. Can we really do that?” he asks, his worry evident even in his hushed tone.

“I thought about that,” Victor admits, moving to intertwine their fingers. “Did you know that ‘Stay Close to Me’ has a duet version?”

“Oh,” Yuuri breathes. “Isn’t that your favorite? Yurio told me it was.”

That’s not exactly true. Victor’s favorite program is one from when he was 15 and loved skating more than anything. It hadn’t won gold, though.

Yura likes “Stay Close to Me” because he thinks Victor meant to skate honestly. He doesn’t realize that Victor hadn’t known he was skating honestly until it was too late.

“Stay Close to Me” is actually very painful for him. It hadn’t been when he’d come up with it, but then Yuuri had waltzed in and out of his life at Sochi, and by the time Victor was done with the season, Victor had grown sick of skating out the image of his own loneliness to an audience that couldn’t understand.

“It’s… a very sad program, originally,” Victor says, his lips drawing into a line. “But the duet is a happier song. It leaves out some of the sad lines. And…”

He pauses, and Yuuri’s eyes flutter open to look at him questioningly. Victor closes his own.

“You understand what I mean when I say I want you to stay close to me and never leave, don’t you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri is silent, but his hand reaches out to cup Victor’s cheek. Victor opens his eyes just enough to gaze into Yuuri’s shining eyes. His eyes are always shining. _Yuuri_ is always shining.

“That… almost sounds like a marriage proposal...” Yuuri murmurs.

Victor smiles softly, and he doesn’t disagree.

“Oh… Well, if that’s the case…” Yuuri continues, a blush dusting his cheeks. “Please take care of me, Victor.”

Victor carefully takes Yuuri’s hand into his own, bringing it up to his lips.

“Yes. Forever.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otabek deserves more justice than he's getting in this fic because he's not a main character. But I still love him, okay?

This is only Kenjirou’s second time making it to the Grand Prix Final, and he’s significantly more antsy about it than Yurio is.

“Whoa, calm down already,” Yurio says, grabbing Kenjirou by the shoulder to force him to still. “Save some energy for your programs, will you? I’m going to be pissed if you skate half-asleep because you wasted your strength… vibrating, or whatever,” he continues, gesturing up and down Kenjirou’s body.

“Hey, just because _you’ve_ been doing this since forever doesn’t mean we’re all used to it!” Kenjirou insists. “I’m excited, okay?”

“We haven’t even left the airport yet!” Yurio says, rolling his eyes.

“Well, if you don’t want to deal with me on the plane, I can always switch seats with Victor,” Kenjirou suggests with a laugh. “Yuuri and I can talk about how exciting the Final is, and you and VIctor can play at being disaffected superstars together.”

Yurio’s grip on his shoulder tightens.

“No need to go that far,” he says, scowling for an instant before he forces his mouth into a smile. “Yay, it’s time for the Final,” he continues with enthusiasm so false that Kenjirou can only burst into laughter.

“Come on, Yurio, you can do better than that!” Kenjirou chokes out through his laughter. “Aren’t you excited to show everybody your perfect quad axel? And Otabek made it to the Final this year; aren’t you excited to see him? And it’s in Barcelona, and I know you’ve been there before, but I haven’t! You can show me around and look all smart and everything! It’s going to be so much fun!”

Yurio’s smile softens into something genuine.

“I guess I can show you some things,” he says. “It sucked last time because I was running around the streets trying to hide from my fans, but I did see a lot of the city.”

“You were hiding from your fans?” Kenjirou asks in confusion. “I thought you liked the Yuri’s Angels?”

“They’re more fun online,” Yuri says, shrugging. “It’s cool when they make edits of Potya and post memes about me. It’s not so cool when they’re swarming me for a chunk of my hair.”

“Oh…” Kenjirou murmurs. “Yeah, that’s… awful.”

Almost without thinking, he reaches up, capturing some of Yurio’s hair between his fingers. Yurio’s wide-eyed, flushed face quickly snaps him back to reality, though, and he drops his hand like it’s been burned.

Yurio frowns.

“You know I don’t mind if _you_ touch it,” he says quietly. “But don’t you dare get any scissors within a foot of it or you’re fucking dead,” he says louder.

Kenjirou brushes a few gold strands off of Yurio’s shoulder, and he laughs even as his heart races.

In the end, it takes two layovers, a delayed flight, and a brief overnight stay before they’re finally able to arrive in Barcelona, but they still manage to make it there before JJ does, which Yurio notes in no fewer than three smug social media posts.

Otabek is already there, but so is Phichit, who had also qualified to compete, so Kenjirou and Yurio make the decision to split up with Victor and Yuuri so they can eat lunch separately with their friends, although they promise to meet up together later to have dinner as a group.

So Kenjirou, Yurio, and Otabek make their way to a café that Yurio says is “probably still decent,” where they sit at a secluded table close to the back and chit-chat.

It’s nice, although for some reason Otabek keeps giving Kenjirou long looks that he can’t understand. Just because Yurio and Otabek can communicate through slight variances in glares doesn’t mean that Kenjirou can!

But at least Yurio is willing to keep the conversation verbal. He and Kenjirou contribute most of the speech, while Otabek only speaks up when he can’t express himself nonverbally.

That’s why Kenjirou is surprised when he goes to the bathroom and can hear Otabek’s raised voice from the hallway as he’s returning.

“You seem to have good chemistry. You didn’t need me to tell you that,” he insists, sounding surprisingly frustrated.

“No shit! You’re supposed to tell me what to do about it!” Yurio retorts.

Kenjirou pauses. He doesn’t want to interrupt them if they’re fighting. Surely it won’t take too long. Yurio is constantly brought to the point of shouting, but those kinds of arguments blow over quickly; it’s when he’s seething in silence that you have to worry. Yurio will calm down in a few minutes. For the time being, it’s better for Kenjirou not to butt in.

“You are asking the wrong person, Yura,” Otabek says, still frustrated. “Do you think I know any more than you do?”

“Who the fuck else am I going to talk to? You’re my only other friend, Beka! Make up some advice or something!” Yurio yells.

“You were the one who asked _me_ out. And you were the one who called it off, too. I think you know more than you think you do!” Otabek growls, much to Kenjirou’s surprise.

“It’s _different_ this time, you idiot!” Yurio insists. “We were already best friends! This thing with Kenjirou is hard and I’m scared, damn it!”

Otabek must say something that’s too quiet to hear, because Yurio responds again.

“Yeah, you’re right…” he says. “I guess I should try kissing him or something..”

Kenjirou assumes that both of their voices fall to an inaudible volume after this, but he doesn’t know for sure, because he has to run back into the bathroom just to splash some water on his burning face.

It _could_ be a coincidence. It’s not like Yurio had explicitly said that he wanted to kiss Kenjirou. But then, who else could he be talking about? They’ve been spending so much time together lately that Kenjirou is pretty confident that he would know if Yurio had met someone else he liked.

But the fact remains that Kenjirou isn’t sure what to do. He had never intended to keep his feelings a secret forever, but he thought it could at least wait until the off season. Of course, he hadn’t exactly planned on running face-first into a situation like this, where Yurio’s feelings would become known to him.

A twinge of guilt hits his stomach. He hadn’t meant to find out, but it would be wrong for him to pretend now that he doesn’t know.

He takes a deep breath, makes his way back to the table, looks Yurio straight in the eyes, and…

“Uh…,” he starts ineloquently.

“Kenjirou, what the hell? Do you have food poisoning or something? What’s with that face?” Yurio asks, a bit of worry creeping into his voice.

“I… uh… need to talk to you,” Kenjirou says, his voice rising in pitch.

“Okay? Whatever it is, just say it,” Yurio tells him.

Kenjirou glances uneasily between Yurio and Otabek. On one hand, it would be rude to ask Otabek to leave. On the other hand, confessing your love to someone in front of their ex is not exactly Kenjirou’s idea of romance.

“I overheard you and Otabek talking,” Kenjirou blurts out instead. “It was kind of loud and I couldn’t help it; I’m sorry!”

Yurio’s worried expression smooths into nothingness.

“I see,” he says tonelessly.

Kenjirou flinches. This is the preface to Yurio becoming truly livid, and that’s not what Kenjirou wants at all.

“Please don’t be angry,” Kenjirou pleads, reaching out a hand without thinking. It brushes past Yurio’s shoulder, and Kenjirou freezes as Yurio’s eyes bore into him.

“I’m not,” Yurio says, breaking into a scowl. A bit of the tension between Kenjirou’s shoulders releases. “What is it that you think you heard, anyway? Beka and I said a lot.”

He gives Otabek a look, and the man stands up with a sigh.

“I’ll leave you to yourselves for now,” he says, smiling faintly. “See you at dinner.”

“See you,” Yurio mutters at the same time Kenjirou coughs out a nervous “Yeah, dinner.”

And then, with Otabek gone, Kenjirou has no more excuses left.

“So, uh…” Kenjirou starts, fidgeting a bit. “Did you want to try kissing me _now,_ or…?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Yurio says as his face reddens. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, I thought it was going to go a little differently, too,” Kenjirou says, chuckling nervously. “I was going to wait until after the Final, or maybe after Worlds, or just… you know, some competition where I’d have a medal. And then I’d say that the medal means a lot to me, but not as much as you do, and then… I don’t know. My plans hadn’t gotten that far.”

“What a terrible line,” Yurio says, amusement creeping in now that he’s realizing his affection is mutual.

“I guess it is,” Kenjirou says. “Good thing you beat me to the confession, huh?”

“I guess,” Yurio agrees. “So you’re really cool with this ‘romantic feelings’ business?”

“Of course. Can’t you tell how happy I am?” Kenjirou asks, beaming. He leans over just enough to press his lips to Yurio’s cheek, and he laughs when Yurio’s eyes widen.

“You say you’re happy, but then you give me a lame-ass kiss like that?” Yurio complains. “If you’re going to kiss me then do it properly, idiot.”

“I’ll give you a better kiss when I beat you in the Final,” Kenjirou says, grinning mischievously. 

“Oh, so what happens when I beat you?” Yurio asks with a smirk. “You might be waiting forever to kiss me.”

“ _If_ you beat me,” Kenjirou says, “then you’ll just have to be the one to kiss me. Deal?”

“It’s a deal,” Yurio says. 

Leaning forward, he presses his mouth to Kenjirou’s ear.

“You do know that I would have kissed you now, right?” he whispers. “If I have to wait so long, I’m not going to hold back at all later. Just so you know.”

Yurio pulls back as Kenjirou flushes. Suddenly, Kenjirou understands why Yuuri and Victor are constantly breathing down each other’s ears all the time.

“I’d be offended if you held back,” Kenjirou says, managing to keep the awe in his voice to a minimum. “Whether it’s skating or kissing, what’s the point in doing it if you aren’t giving it your all?”

“Yeah, I feel the same,” Yurio agrees. He smiles in the kind of way that makes him glow, and Kenjirou can’t resist reaching for his hand.

“This is okay for now, right?” Kenjirou asks, holding up their hands.

“It’s good,” Yurio replies. “For now.”


	22. Chapter 22

This is probably the most heart-pounding Grand Prix Final that Yuri has ever attended.

This new relationship between him and Kenjirou is slightly terrifying—Yuri still doesn’t know what he’s doing—but it’s fun and exciting, too. In many ways, it isn’t that different from what they had before. They’re still competitors, driven to beat each other. They’re still friends, able to joke and relax with each other. But now, there’s another, deeper spark, almost ready to ignite.

After the Final, they’ll be dating for real, for better or for worse.

Yuri can’t say for certain that he’ll beat Kenjirou here, especially after he executes a perfect quad flip in combination with a triple during his short program, bringing his score a full point above Yuri’s.

“I guess you do know how to be an alright coach,” he tells Victor, who’s watching Kenjirou intensely, Katsudon right beside him.

Victor, the asshole, doesn’t even respond, but just chuckles at him. 

“I think Victor brought out something in him that I wouldn’t be able to reach,” Katsudon says softly, caressing the ring on his finger as he speaks. Apparently he and Victor had gotten dubiously engaged the night before, or something. Katsudon is obviously too lovestruck to think clearly right now, and that’s the only reason Yuri doesn’t yell at him for acting like he isn’t a good coach himself.

At any rate, Kenjirou beams at Katsudon even as he hugs Victor, so it’s clear that Kenjirou, at least, still appreciates Katsudon.

Kenjirou comes over to hug Yuri, too, and nearly knocks the breath out of him in the process.

“We’re halfway to that kiss,” Kenjirou says cheerfully. “Looks like I’m in the lead.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri says dismissively. “Your quads kick ass, but mine kick more ass. I’ll be the one taking gold.”

“So confident,” Kenjirou says teasingly. “What if Otabek comes and takes us both down? He’s only two points behind you.”

“And Phichit’s only a half a point behind him, I know,” Yurio says. “It’s going to be damn close this year. Nobody can afford to make a single mistake.”

Yuri would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling the pressure. At the same time, the pressure is just what he needs. 

He wonders if he would have made it so far this season if he and Victor had never run into Kenjirou and Katsudon, if they had stayed in Russia and trained like always. Oh, he knows he probably would have made it to the Final. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’s one of the world’s top skaters. But would he have pushed himself as hard? Would he have ever done the quad axel in a competition? Would he have a serious chance of maintaining his win streak against everyone else who’s stepped up their game?

He doesn’t know, but it doesn’t really matter. He’s here, and he’s facing a greater challenge than he has since winning his first gold. And it’s good, it’s engaging, it’s exactly what he wants. Winning is only satisfying when it isn’t practically guaranteed.

And Yuri knows he wouldn’t have been able to do this on his own. Katsudon, Kenjirou—and, god, even Victor, because Yuri certainly never would have left Saint Petersburg on his own—have been absolutely vital to his success this season.

Which is why it’s completely ridiculous when Katsudon comes to him later that evening and tries to tell him he should go back to having Victor coach him.

“After the Final, let’s end this,” Katsudon says, biting his lip. “It… It makes no sense for me to pretend to coach you. You do so much yourself, and… And Victor is so much better at everything than I am, so you’re really better off going to him. I mean, look at Kenjirou! He was doing good with me as his coach, but with VIctor… You see it, right?”

“Kenjirou is improving,” Yuri admits. “But so am I, or are you too dumb to see it? I’m doing better with you than I did with Victor, and it’s not because I’m on my fucking own. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I practice with _you_ a lot more than I practice alone these days.”

“I… know, but…” Katsudon starts. “Wouldn’t it be better for you and Kenjirou to train together under Victor? He’s qualified to coach Japanese skaters now, so I’m sure he’s planning to take Kenjirou on officially, and he should! He can coach both of you now, and there’s no reason for me to get in the way...”

“Katsudon, just shut up,” Yuri growls out. “Did you even think this through, dumbass? What were you planning to do while your precious fiancé was coaching us, huh?”

“Well, I…” Katsudon looks down. “I didn’t think ahead that far, but—”

“You didn’t think at all, you idiot,” Yuri admonishes. “If Victor’s planning to take Kenjirou as his student—and I’m sure he is because I think we can all agree those two somehow manage to work well together— then he’s assuming that you’re going to take me as your student, too! Otherwise you’d have no students and you’d be giving up your career, which is the last thing any of us want.”

“We didn’t talk about it, but I’m sure Victor won’t mind too much…” Katsudon murmurs.

“I mind too much!” Yuri insists. “Damn it, Katsudon, I obviously should have told you this sooner, but I want you to be my coach! Officially, for next season! It’s not that hard to get qualified; if Victor can do it then you can do it. If you actually think I’ll be able to be satisfied with Victor when I have a better coach right here in front of me, then you need to get a new prescription for those glasses of yours because you’re blind as shit.”

Katsudon falls silent, a hesitant look on his face.

“You… want me to be your coach next season. Officially,” he says after a moment. “You mean it seriously?”

“I wouldn’t kid around about something affecting my career this much, Katsudon, and you already know that,” Yuri says. “So will you do it or not?”

“If you’re sure,” Katsudon says quietly. “Then I will.”

Yuri breathes a sigh of relief.

“God, Katsudon, you really freaked me out there for a second,” he says. “How would you like to get dumped by your coach mid-season? I would have had to go skate to get you back, and that would have been awkward, since Kenjirou and I already have something else riding on this competition.”

“I’m sorry,” Katsudon says with a frown. “I wasn’t thinking about… Wait, what do you and Kenjirou have riding on your skating?”

“You’ll see when I win,” Yurio says, smirking.

“Oh…” Katsudon murmurs. “Oh, does it have something to do with you two dating?”

“You figured that out?” Yuri asks in surprise. It’s not as though it’s a secret, so he doesn’t mind Katsudon knowing, but he and Kenjirou hadn’t actually mentioned it to their coaches.

“Ah… Kenjirou’s not very subtle with his affection,” Katsudon says, chuckling. “I think he liked you for a while but was trying to give you some room. I figured something must have changed, because you suddenly started getting into each other’s personal space without pulling back.

Yuri snorts. Katsudon is one to talk about invading personal space. He and Victor act like they’re extensions of each other.

“Well, whatever,” Yuri says. “We weren’t trying to hide it or anything. Just don’t get all weird about it, got it?” he insists.

“No, no, I think it’s great,” Katsudon says with a small smile. “There are places you can’t reach unless you have a dream too large to bear on your own. I’ve always thought that, but I never…” He shakes his head slowly as he trails off. “Anyway, I hope you and Kenjirou will help each other get to those places.”

It’s a bit of a sappy thought, but Yuri thinks he understands what Katsudon means. You have to skate for yourself, because at the end of the day, you’re the one who has to live with whatever you’ve chosen to do. But that can only take you so far. Yuri hadn’t even realized how much he was limiting himself until he had started talking to Kenjirou and Katsudon. It’s hard to believe that they’ve only been in his life for a year.

And Victor… Victor, of course, has been in his life for much longer. He’s one of the biggest nuisances in Yuri’s life, for that matter, and they mix like oil and water. But that being said, Yuri’s stupid heart still warms whenever he thinks about how much happier Victor is now. Yuri was never able to be the companion Victor needed, just like Victor was never able to be the coach Yuri needed. Still, in a way, Victor is almost like family. Yuri had spent so long trying to break out from Victor’s oppressive shadow that he had never really stopped to consider just how far the two of them had gone together.

It’s these kinds of mushy, embarrassing thoughts that swirl in his head as he performs his free skate, contributing to what critics will probably call “his most emotional performance,” but which Yuri will always remember as the time he ended his program by falling to his knees and crying.

It’s not the crying that’s embarrassing. Plenty of skaters become moved to tears by their programs. No, the embarrassing thing is that he’s crying over _how much he fucking loves everyone,_ and that’s just not something he’s willing to admit to. Ever. Not to the reporters, at least, no matter how hard they press him for his thoughts

Maybe it’s the emotions, or maybe it’s the way he makes the quad axel look effortless (though it definitely _wasn’t,_ as his tired muscles remind him), but he ends up taking gold to Kenjirou’s silver by a point and a half. Otabek comes in third, Phichit makes it to fourth, and JJ is fifth, with Emil Nekola taking sixth.

“Hey, congratulations,” Kenjirou tells him when they’re on the podium. His smile is tender. “i tried my best, but when I watched you… You were really in-tune with your program this time. It was incredible.”

And Yuri, exhausted from his performance and still a little overwhelmed with the strength of his emotions, just smiles.

“Come here, Kenjirou,” he says, pulling Kenjirou up to the top of the podium.

Kenjirou smiles softly at him.

“Look, I’m tired, I’m happy, and I’m feeling stupid,” Yuri says quietly. “And if I don’t do this right now then I might not have the opportunity for a while.”

Kenjirou seems to get it, because he shifts a little closer as Yuri tilts his head down to capture Kenjirou’s lips in a kiss. It’s a hard kiss, a real statement of intent, so Kenjirou knows, so _everyone_ knows, exactly what he wants.

Apparently the kiss blows up on social media. Yuri doesn’t really care what they’re saying. He does what he wants, anyway.

“Your pictures are getting more attention than mine and Yuuri’s did,” Victor informs him, his face contorting into a mock pout.

“It’s not a fucking competition,” Yuri says with a chuckle.

“Hmm, no,” Victor agrees. “You can’t award points and assign medals to something like this. Love is golden all on its own.”

Yuri rolls his eyes hard at Victor’s choice of words, but he doesn’t reject the sentiment.


	23. Chapter 23

Yuuri isn’t sure whether he’s meant to be feeling proud of Kenjirou or of Yurio, so he settles for being proud of both of them. They were both able to find great inspiration this year, and it really showed in their skating.

Of course, Yuuri has found great inspiration this year, too.

The “Stay Close to Me” pair skate that he and VIctor are going to perform may not be a technical, quad-filled, medal-winning routine, but that’s not something that the two of them need. Yurio and Kenjirou can have their fun trading medals for kisses; Yuuri has already won Victor’s heart, the only thing he’s ever truly longed for.

No, for Yuuri, skating hasn’t been about winning anything for several years now. That kind of goal is lost to him in his retirement.

But that’s not to say that his skating is no longer meaningful. That’s the mistake he made six years ago, thinking that his skating was worthless because he couldn’t win the competitions he wanted to.

Such thoughts feel wrong to him now. He really has changed a lot since Victor and Yurio became part of his life. Changed for the better, he thinks.

He gazes down fondly at his ring. He would feel silly for doing it so often were it not for the fact that he keeps catching Victor looking at his own ring, too.

The rings were a spur-of-the-moment decision, and a sort of embarrassing one, at that. Yuuri had honestly thought it was just understood that he and Victor wanted to spend their lives together. It’s not as though Yuuri wanted to be pushy about it. Their love doesn’t need to be qualified with words like “boyfriends” or “lovers,” which would never be able to capture just how deep Yuuri’s feelings for Victor go, anyway. And yet, when he saw the golden rings, he was stricken with the desire to have something, anything, that could symbolize the bond between them.

Victor was the one to refer to it as a real proposal, but Yuuri would be lying if he said he minded. Marriage is certainly one way to prove commitment, and one that Yuuri will gladly engage in. The first time Victor had said “my fiancé” while he grinned his heart-shaped smile, Yuuri felt like his heart was going to burst with love.  
Kenjirou has already joked that Yuuri and Victor are having their wedding dance before the wedding, but in all honestly, that’s exactly what the pair skate feels like. The moment they take the ice together, the rest of the world seems to fall away. His body skates the routine his muscles know by memory, but his heart is completely caught up in Victor’s loving eyes.

When they finish, they collapse, not into tears as Yurio had at the end of his program, but into exhilarated laughter. It’s the happiest moment of Yuuri’s life, he thinks, only he thinks that every single moment he spends with Victor. 

From the way Victor pulls him closer, cupping Yuuri’s face with his hands as he smiles joyously, Yuuri suspects that Victor is feeling just as happy as Yuuri is.

Sometimes it still feels like a dream, Victor loving him. But then, Victor has confessed that he feels like he’s dreaming sometimes, too, dreaming that the boy who stole his heart actually came back to him (and Yuuri will never stop being sorry for the way he hurt Victor all those years ago, even though Victor has forgiven him—all he can do now is love Victor with all his strength and promise never to leave again). 

Well, if they really are both dreaming, at least they’re doing it together.

He makes the mistake of saying as much to Victor when they get off the ice. Only, he forgets that Victor isn’t the only person in the universe.

“You’re not dreaming, idiots,” Yurio interrupts before Victor can say anything. “And I can kick you to prove it, if you want.”

“Ah… No need for that, Yurio,” Yuuri responds, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Yeah, save that leg power for your exhibition,” Kenjirou says with a grin.

“I just thought I’d put the offer out there,” Yurio says as the corners of his mouth turn upwards. 

“I’ve already been kicked by you more than enough times,” Victor says. “It didn’t bother me when you were a teenager because you were so light and small compared to me, but I think it might hurt now.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on your old man body,” Yurio promises, rolling his eyes.

“Wow! So considerate!” Victor mock-exclaims. “You really are a mature adult now, Yura!”

“Shut your damn mouth,” Yurio mutters.

Yuuri smiles as he watches the exchange. If someone had told him just a year ago that he would be this happy, he wouldn’t have believed them. He really had thought that the best years of his life were put firmly into the past once he had rashly announced his retirement.

But everything has changed since then. He shifts his hand a little, just enough for his ring to catch the light.

He knows now that the best years of his life are still to come.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This it the final chapter, so I'd just like to take a moment to say thank you for reading! <3

Victor is in love.

Real, true, feel-it-in-his-soul love. This isn’t merely lust, or interest, or mild fondness (though all of that is there, of course—Victor feels every pleasant emotion in the world for Yuuri), no, this is so much deeper. 

And—he looks at his ring—Yuuri can feel it, too. The knowledge brings him so much joy that he’s half inclined to choreograph a program out of it. 

Being with Yuuri makes Victor feel alive in ways he had thought would be impossible. Loneliness was just his lot in life, or so he assumed, because no matter how well he skated, no matter how many medals he won, no matter how many people he met and charmed, he couldn’t fix it.

And yet, Yuuri managed to get him to take down his walls, walls that Victor hadn’t even realized he had up. And suddenly, everything Victor knew about acting no longer mattered. It was like learning how to live all over again.

It isn’t always easy, but then, it was never easy feeling hopeless, either. Now, though, he has hope. He has life, and love, and a future that he’s actually looking forward to. And with Yuuri at his side, Victor feels more prepared to face the world than he ever did when he was supposedly on top of it.

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri says suddenly, breaking Victor out of his reverie. “Dance with me?”

Victor breaks out into a broad smile.

“Gladly.”

They aren’t the only couple dancing, but they’re definitely the _best_ couple.

He says this out loud, mostly for the sake of referring to himself and Yuuri as “a couple.”

Unfortunately, there are other couples within earshot who take such a statement as a challenge.

“Aha! Sorry, but the gold medal for best couple belongs to me and my beautiful wife!” JJ exclaims, wrapping his arm around Isabella.

“Uh…” Yuuri says awkwardly as he and Victor slow their dance to a halt. Victor is torn between laughing at JJ’s inappropriate timing and glaring at him for interrupting him and Yuuri.

“Hey, you idiots don’t have a monopoly on romance, you know!” Yura shouts as soon as he hears JJ’s words, reaching for Kenjirou’s hand like a knight would reach for his sword. “Do I have to remind you that of all of the couples here, Kenjirou and I are the only ones literally wearing medals?”

“Even though we haven’t been dating for that long, we could still beat you at anything,” Kenjirou agrees. “Don’t count us out!”

“A couples competition?” Phichit asks as he makes his way over, drawn by his apparent sixth sense for mischief (or perhaps by Yura’s voice, which was by no means quiet).

“Oh no,” Yuuri whispers.

“I say we make it official!” Phichit continues cheerfully. “The couples can dance, and we’ll let our Instagram followers decide who wins.”

“Darling, would you do me the honor of gracing us with your skills?” JJ asks his wife.

Isabella’s eyes gleam as she smiles.

“I will. Winning dance competitions is…” She and her husband move their hands in unison “JJ Style!”

“If you think you can beat us at anything that involves footwork, you’re just wrong,” Yura insists. “The only one who could possibly do better is Katsudon, but he and Victor can’t stop making eyes at each other long enough to actually beat us.”

“Is that what you think, Yurio?” Yuuri asks nonchalantly. “Because I think Victor and I would wipe the floor with you at any kind of dance, distracted or not.”

The sight of a confident Yuuri sends a shockwave through Victor, and he holds himself a little higher in response.

“That’s right,” Victor says, smirking. “We didn’t lose our competitive spirit when we retired, you know. I’d say it’s stronger than ever.”

Of course, at the end of the night, all they’ve established is that the internet will collectively lose its shit when world-class athletes start posting videos of a couples dance-off. No clear winner can be determined.

But that never really mattered anyway. Victor saves all of the best shots of him and Yuuri to his phone later that night, but he otherwise keeps out of the social media mess (Yura and Kenjirou, on the other hand, seem to have taken to tag-team tweeting at JJ and Isabella, which Victor screenshots for his personal amusement in case Yura decides to deny his part in it later).

“So, are the votes in?” Yuuri asks teasingly, cuddling closer to him on their shared hotel bed.

“Yes. It’s unanimous. You’re adorable,” Victor says, immediately turning his attention away from his phone. “At least, you’re the definite winner in my book.”

“Oh?” Yuuri murmurs. “And what do I win, hmm?”

Victor pretends to look thoughtful for a moment before he grins, falling back on the bed.

“Me!” he says, giving Yuuri a heated look.

Yuuri’s smile is warm even as his eyes rake Victor’s body.

“Good,” he says, shifting himself to lean over Victor’s form. “You’re all that I want, Victor. And I intend to keep you for the rest of my life.”

Six years ago, Victor could never have imagined that Yuuri Katsuki would one day lean over him and say that. Hell, even a year ago, a situation like this could have only existed in his dreams.

“God, Yuuri, I can’t wait to marry you,” Victor says breathily as he tugs Yuuri down into a passionate kiss.

Yes, Victor is definitely in love.

**Author's Note:**

> If I've made any spelling/grammar/formatting errors, please feel free to let me know!
> 
> Also, before I forget to mention it (again), I have a YOI tumblr, [@dawnonice](http://dawnonice.tumblr.com) Check it out if you'd like!


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